


The Art of the Cocktail

by pulpobsessed



Category: New Girl
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 145,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpobsessed/pseuds/pulpobsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years ago, Jessica Day broke Nick Miller's heart when she walked out of his life, which might have been the best thing that ever happened to him. Now, when he's the cream of the crop in LA's bar scene, Nick Miller will have to face his past and the woman who made him the man he's become. </p><p>This is a story about love, broken hearts, terrible decisions, redemption and cocktails. </p><p>Each chapter is named after a cocktail - there is a link to the recipe/information about the cocktail at the end of the chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Painkiller.

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue is in Jess' voice, after that it will shift to Nick.

The plane wheels touched down with a rather satisfactory thump, which quickly transitioned into a loud screeching noise as the pilot applied pressure to the brakes of the plane. Jessica Day, who normally loved flying, squished her face up in annoyance as the sound of rubber braking hard on pavement sent a torrent of shockwaves into her brain. Her head had been hurting ever since she’d left LA, and with each passing hour it was getting increasingly worse. How she was going to endure sitting in a car ride with her mother and sister - which was sure to be nothing more than a glorified interrogation session - she had no idea.

All that she had told her mom and sister when she’d called with her flight information was that she needed some space.  

Space from Los Angeles. 

Space from her life there. 

Space from an ever revolving on-again/off-again relationship that she was terrified this trip would completely kill - even if she really didn’t want that to happen. 

But most of all, she wanted space from him. Which was rather ironic, considering she actually didn’t want them to end. 

Nick.

Nick Miller. 

Someone she never really gave a second thought to romantically, and yet had become the single most important love of her life. They had moved from roommates to friends to best friends to boyfriend/girlfriend, back to friends/roommates, then boyfriend/girlfriend again (a much more successful attempt this time around). 

And she knew damn well that her sudden decision to run off to Portland for two weeks could very well drive the stake in the proverbial heart of their relationship this time. She loved him - she loved them - but she couldn’t help feel this intense need to get some distance between them, just for a little while. But she had no idea why she needed that distance - she just knew it was something she craved. She needed to be sure.  

He had looked so heartbroken and crestfallen when she announced last week that she was going back to Portland - alone - for a while. He had sounded so broken when he said, “I could come with you, you know? Take a couple weeks off from the bar, and just experience everything awesome about Portland with you. It could be romantic.” 

But as much as she wanted it, she just knew she couldn’t do that. 

She knew that if she had let him come with her, nothing would have changed. She would have welcomed him to Portland - with its organic coffee roasters, farmers markets, and multitude of brunch places, all of which he would have a very special eye roll for and tongue in cheek quip about. And then at some point in those two weeks, he would have produced the ring she had found hidden in his dresser...and she would have said yes, even though she knew neither of them were ready for that yet. 

Her high school girl crush - Buffy Summers - had put it best, “I’m cookie dough. I’m not done baking yet.” 

See, even that had to be a testament to how much growing she still had to do - she was quoting Buffy Bloody Summers - a fictional vampire slayer. 

Which Nick would have loved….

And Nick...he was barely cookie dough....he was just starting to get mixed together. He had a plan now. A good plan and there was so much potential in him. She could see it in his eyes, his smile, his face, the way he carried himself...hear it in his laugh, his voice, the little tremor his voice did when he said “I love you”. 

Maybe when she got back to LA, they could have a serious talk. Actually talk about what they wanted their futures to be. Where did Nick see them in five years - married sure, but what else? Sure, he’ll have accomplished his “GRAND PLAN OF SUCCESS” by then. A fantastic plan, which he’d laid out for her in bed one night - with an added twist thrown at her today, but what role did she play in that plan? And where did she see herself? Still teaching - sure. Married - sure. But was that it? What was her plan? Did she even have one? Maybe there was something else in her too..some potential she hadn’t realized yet. Maybe she could write a book, or the musical that she had been toying with since she was 12. Or maybe she could start some kind of school...but she needed a plan, too. Something. And maybe they could bring it out in each other, together…but she felt lost in the face of his plan. 

Which was what sparked this trip.

The problem was that she hadn’t actually told him about her reasons behind the trip.

She just needed a little time to reconnect with her Portland roots. That was ok, right? Portland always recharged her. It always helped her figure things out. 

She would go for bike rides in Washington City Park. Have a coffee from Water Avenue Coffee and then go wander Powell’s Books for a few hours - maybe find him some sexy book on bar-tending. She’d go for brunch with Abby at Salty’s. She’d go and eat at all the food trucks. 

And in two weeks, she’d be back to her old self. She’d be back to Jessica Day. 

And then, she would go home. She’d walk back into the loft, probably see Schmidt doing something ridiculous or Winston posing with his gun in front of the bathroom mirror. But best of all, he would be there - sitting on the couch, looking up at her, smiling that big smile that he reserved only for her. Then he’d get up and take her suitcase and lead her back to their room and show her how much he had missed her. 

And she’d give him the silly and ridiculous gifts she’d bought him - making him laugh with each one, whether it was a book, or a t-shirt with a bike on it, or some crazy knitted circle scarf he would wear just for her despite the merciless teasing Cece would subject him to. 

And they would talk. And things would be even better than they already are. 

She just needs a little time. A little space. 

And in a couple weeks - three at the most - she would be back in LA, drinking at the bar or sitting with Cece at some coffee shop in Silver Lake gossiping about their new manicurist or curled up in bed with him on a lazy Sunday morning reading the paper on her iPad. 

Just a little time and space. 

God, her head hurt...actually her whole body hurt. 

She missed him. 

It had been so hard saying goodbye at LAX today - she had wanted so desperately to stay or have him come. 

********

“You know, it’ll take me a couple hours to hook up a flight to Portland, I could be there this afternoon...we could be eating ridiculously overpriced organic pickled breakfast eggs at an all-day brunch place by 4.” 

“I’ll be ok, Nick. I need this. We need this.”

“But I don’t. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I thought things were going so well...we managed to not do any of the things we did wrong last time. We’re better...I’m so confused about what’s happening.” 

“Please, Nick...I just need a little time away.”

“I know. We talked about that, remember. I agreed it would be good for you. But I just didn’t realize that time away meant time away from me. Can you at least tell me if this is about something I did.” 

“It isn’t. I promise. I just need a little time by myself in Portland, get some mom and Jess crafting creative space time. Get a little perspective.”

“The word ‘perspective’ is usually a bridge to breaking up.”

“Nick…”

“Can you blame me, Jess? Things have been going so well - we’re doing great this time. We talk, we don’t lie and freak each other out, we’re actually doing awesome at cohabitation, I love you and I know you love me...and then bam!, sorry Nick, I’m going to Portland - alone - for a while.”

“Nick, I’m coming back. And I’m coming back to you - to our bed. To our room…to our life. 

“Promise?”

“Would it help if I sing my promise?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even make fun of me for that.”

“No. I didn’t - because that’s how serious this is to me, Jess. I think you know that.” He had that grouchy serious face on - the one that either meant he needed to talk about something important or she was about to get her brains screwed out. 

“Nick...I will be home.”

“Mmmmm…” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “Can I look while you’re gone?”

“We haven’t even told the guys yet, isn’t it premature to start looking at apartments when they don’t know and I’m not even here?”

“It’ll give me something to do while you're gone.” 

“Ok, but no signing anything...remember we each get veto power.”

“I already consented to getting two bedrooms so you can have a craft room!” 

“And how about that school program? You can work on that application.”

 “I submitted it last week...I was going to surprise you if I got in.” 

“Nick!?”

“If all goes well, nine months from now I’ll be ready to become a small business owner. I’m also thinking of professional bar-tending classes...what do you think?”

“If you want to do it, do it!” 

“Ok...I might do some reading...”

“Nick...I…”

“I know. I love you too.” 

“I love you so much.”

“Please come home.”

**************

Jess closed her eyes. What was she doing…getting perspective? Bull shit. She was running away - but she had no idea what from. Was she running away from a boyfriend who was trying to put his life in order, a boyfriend who was committing to this relationship 100% - schools, apartment hunting, real co-habitation without the convenient distraction of two other men to bother them every day…marriage. 

Jessica Day was scared. 

And she couldn’t do this if she was scared. She needed to be ready. 

This trip would help her. 

Fuck, her head hurt...she pressed it against the cold of the airplane window glass...

She just needed some time. 

But just a little time, it’ll be really good for her...for them. 

Just a little…


	2. Chapter 1 - Tequila Sunrise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three Years later. Nick Miller is a very different man.

****Three Years Later****

Los Angeles sunrises are one of the most beautiful sights in the entire world. They always hold such promise - washing the city with golden red light, almost a redeeming light that cleans away the previous night’s sins. LA sunrises have inspired hundreds of novels, movies and television shows. They’ve been witness to thousands of milestones - marking everything from the most mundane moment in a person’s life to the most important. LA sunrises have witnessed proposals, walks of shame, cups of coffee, terrible break-ups, the moment when two people wake up together in bed for the first time and the moment when two people see each other for the last time. They’ve seen the aftermath of crime, admissions of love, the realization of lust…they are a ever present witness to the city’s sins and its salvations.

In a city where change and fragility is the name of the game, sunrises are one of the few constants a person can depend on. And for Nick Miller, they have been his sole constant companion every morning for the last two years.

Nick was perched - as usual - against the back of his black leather sofa, hands wrapped around a slowly cooling cup of coffee, watching as rays of golden sunlight slowly spread over the city. He smiled into his cup as his living room was suddenly transformed from a dull grey into a blaze of reds and yellows and golds. The sun was glinting off of his television, his glass coffee table and the collection of photo frames arranged around his living room - creating a kaleidoscope of colours in the room.

This was a daily ritual for him. He rarely got home from The BarRail until the sun had already started coming up. So, ever since moving into his condo two years ago, he’d decided to simply work the sunrise into his daily schedule - watching LA come to life in the early morning from the living room of his twentieth floor apartment, while sipping his last coffee before going to bed.

He loved watching as another day started. Another typical LA day, where right now people were making their way to yoga classes, spin classes, meeting up with personal trainers or just putting kettles on to boil for coffee in french presses. But for him, another day was ending. For Nick, sunrises meant slipping between his 1000 thread-count sheets and sleeping until tonight when he would go to back to work. Back to the bar. His bar. His wonderfully, disgustingly successful bar.

Nick’s grin got even wider.

The sun was high enough now that it was getting into his eyes, blinding him. Grumbling in protest, he reached forward and pressed a button on a small wall panel next to him, instantly causing the windows to turn from translucent to tinted, obscuring the intensity of the California sun and throwing the room into relative darkness.

With the sunrise now effectively over for another day, Nick pushed himself off of the couch and made his way towards his kitchen, flicking on a small table lamp next to the couch. The single light revealed a sparsely furnished living room that was done up in mostly dark tones and chrome - it was a completely masculine room, dominated by the large black leather couch. One which he rarely sat on, since he spent most of his time at the bar.

He paused to pick up a stray orange and blue striped sock hanging off the side of one of the two chairs in the room - it must have fallen out of the laundry basket yesterday - with a grunt of disapproval over the unwanted element of disorder in his tidy living room, he shoved the sock into the pocket of his blazer and continued into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he rinsed out his cup, briefly contemplated popping another Nespresso pod in the machine for a second cup, instead he decided that he would much rather just go to bed and left the cup to dry in the rack. He pulled open the fridge - nearly empty, which meant a run to Whole Foods was in order before going to the bar tonight. Sighing at the thought of grocery shopping, he grabbed a carton of low-fat organic yogurt and a spoon from the drying rack.

Leaning against the wall opposite from the fridge, he smiled. His fridge door was bare, except for a single cut out article - a review of the bar from the LA Times from last year.

“Reading you never gets old.” He mumbled around a spoonful of yogurt.

_1930s Glamour Still Alive In Los Angeles Bar._

_Perhaps you think that LA doesn’t need yet another gimmicky speakeasy inspired bar interjecting itself into the city’s already over-saturated bar scene. And normally, you would be correct. That is until you walk into The RailBar and witness its unique and vibrant atmosphere for yourself. In a city where the words vintage and heritage have become trendy buzzwords for trying too hard, The RailBar actually seems to defy convention here._

_What owner, Nick Miller, has managed to accomplish is something truly special - a place where the emphasis is not placed on the physical space, but rather on the real purpose of the bar: the drinks. Relative newcomer to the mixology world, Miller has defined himself as a very accomplished mixologist - every drink item on the menu has some personal touch of his. And with an insistence on local quality ingredients and the absolute best alcohol - these drinks have set his bar apart from almost every other watering hole in the city…_

Nick chuckled as he dropped the empty yogurt container into the sink. That review alone had made him a lot of money. People had flocked in hordes to his bar because of it - and not just everyday LA residents, but celebs too. The week after it appeared, Robert Downey Junior’s people had reserved a table. Then Jared Leto. Then Kerry Washington…and it just got better from there.

Three years. He had worked tirelessly for three years - with only one goal in mind - to become successful. He had become driven, determined and focused solely on making a name for himself. He took classes in business and bar-tending. He learned what needed to be done to make a business run. He learned bookkeeping and how to be a manager. He learned how to craft drinks. He learned the chemistry of alcohol. And he discovered that he had a secret talent - he could make magic happen with just a cocktail shaker and a few ingredients. It was a wholly unexpected talent - but one he quickly realized could translate into profits. The fact that he could make a person swoon with just the sip of a cocktail was what he based his entire brand on.

The drinks Nick Miller created weren’t just drinks - they were tiny taste journeys, meant to create an emotional and physiological reaction. And his drinks never failed to do just that. Heck, another reviewer had described him as “Chris Angel with gin and bitters.” That was a review he had framed in his office.

Three years ago, his personal life had resembled a complete wasteland - complete with a slew of corpses left in his wake, so he had devoted himself to one goal - becoming successful. And that’s exactly what he had done. For three years, everything else in his life had taken a back seat. He had no other purpose or desire or interest than to open his own bar and make a success of it.

And now, he has one of the hottest bars in the city. And that meant money.

A lot of money.

Nick Miller had never really given a second thought to money - hell, he'd only got himself a proper bank account in his early 30s; instead, he’d always told himself that he preferred living a simplistic life. He used to like not having credit cards or getting bank statements in his email or even regularly paying car or health insurance. He’d always believed that he didn’t need much. And he certainly didn’t need to depend on cold hard cash to be happy. That was until he found himself in possession of a lot of cold hard cash.

And suddenly the appeal of money became all too clear.

Money he had earned. Money that he had made for himself. Money made from a bar he owned. Suddenly, he could afford things. Real things - real tangible things that didn’t have an air of Goodwill or college dorm rooms on them.

He smiled at the memory of checking his bank balance and realizing that he didn’t need to worry about where his rent was going to come from and then realizing that not only did he have enough to cover a years worth of rent, but that he was making enough money to live on his own.

That night he’d informed his roommates - a bunch of strangers whom he didn’t really known or like anyways - that he was moving out. The next day he had started looking. And the day after that he’d found this condo. He had never thought he would be one of those guys who lived in a glass and chrome condo building, but then he found this place and the price was perfect. It had a huge master bedroom where three of the four walls were windows so he could sleep surrounded by the city and where, on the rare night when he wasn’t working, he could watch the sun set. The far wall in the living room was one gigantic window - giving him a mind blowing view of east LA. The sheer amount of windows in the condo meant that its best feature really was the view that still made his stomach drop every time he looked out at it.

And living on his own, meant getting to decorate his apartment on his own - dumping the second hand crap and the bookshelves made from plywood and concrete blocks; instead, he got to graduate to real adult furniture. And he got to decorate it himself. No overbearing douchebag of a friend to insist on a certain kind of couch or some scratchy rug made from some incredibly rare fibre found only in Tibet. And there were no other roommates insisting on paintings he hated or gross bouquets of flowers he’d have to throw away or random pieces of workout gear or any of that other crap that he hated.

No, this space was his. It was only his.

What had surprised him the most was that his style actually was some kind of weird hybrid between his own ideas about what he’d always knew he liked - framed old movie posters, books, a very large television - and Schimdt’s fashion sense: chrome, leather, glass, steel, exposed brick. His living room was all metal, glass and leather. Anchoring the room were two main pieces of furniture: his black leather sectional and a impressively large bar that folded into a large cabinet and was the sexiest thing he owned.

Nick walked past the closed cabinet. Smiling, he trailed a finger across it as he continued towards the bedroom. It had been the first thing he’d bought for the apartment and it was always stocked with the best alcohol he could get - just in case inspiration hit him and wanted to play around with some new drink idea. Which was pretty much all the time, to be honest.

Even deciding on what objects occupied his home was dictated by work. The bar was everything.

The condo had one bedroom plus a den, which he’d transformed into a home office. The office housed a medium sized glass desk, where he kept his home computer - a MacBook Pro - and a few book cases filled mixology and bar-tending books, plus dozens of notebooks filled with information about the bar. He had painted his office a light brown, something calming and business like. The rest of the apartment he had done in a variety of light greys and reds, which seemed to reflect the masculine atmosphere he loved about his home.

Stepping into his bedroom, he flicked on the overhead light. This room he had done up in slate greys and deep purples and was dominated by a large king sized bed, two end tables, a black dresser and a charcoal grey lounge chair from Crate and Barrel. Nick pulled off his blazer, dropping it onto the chair, then started pulling off his tie - pausing halfway to pick up the blazer again to hang it carefully away in his walk in closet - no need to wrinkle the expensive fabric. He then carefully hung up the tie, stripped off his pants, hanging them next to the blazer. He pulled off his shirt and undershirt, tossing them in his hamper. He then yanked off his boxer briefs and socks, adding them to the hamper. He let himself stretch before walking out of the closet.

Naked, he walked into his en-suite bathroom, pausing to take in his appearance in the mirror. He smiled at what he saw.

He was no longer that unkempt, slouchy thirty-something he’d been three years ago. He had bulked up. His chest was bigger, stomach flatter - but still with a slight paunch - and his arms were approaching massive proportions. He knew that in order to be successful in this city, he had to be someone people wanted to see naked...so he had done just that. He had joined an actual gym - finally getting over his aversion to exercise - and, following the lead of a few guys he met there, started to redefine himself.

He liked seeming himself naked, and he knew that on pyjama night at The BarRail - where he often tended bar shirtless - that he wasn’t the only one who liked it. Occasionally, that was the only night when he’d let himself indulge in some non-work related activities.

He flexed in the mirror, watching his pecs and biceps get bigger. His legs were also more toned and defined - his thighs were bigger, stronger than they had ever been and he liked the way they framed his crotch. His eyes wandered back up, lingering slightly on his chest again, before moving to his face.

Even that had changed. Gone was the scruffiness and the unkempt hair. Now he had a well maintained goatee that off set his jaw and he wore his hair closely cropped in a stylish tangle.

Nick was damn well not afraid to admit that he was sexy. He was his brand and his brand was sexy - the bar was sexy, so the bar owner had to be sexy too.

He gave himself a smile and picked up his toothbrush. He brushed while continuing to flex. He figured he would sleep for a few hours and then get up and go to the gym before going back to the bar. “Arms day.” He announced to his reflexion, his voice muffled by toothpaste.

After rinsing out his mouth, he flicked the light off and walked back into the dark bedroom - his windows had a special blackout setting, but could turn transparent at the flick of a switch. He walked to close his bedroom door - noticing he had left a light on in the living room, he shrugged and decided to leave it for now and closed the door. He turned the bedroom light off and crawled between the covers on his bed, relishing the feel of the cool sheets on his naked skin.

He turned over in bed. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room he could make out the shadow of a photo-frame on his bedside table In it was a photo of the person who had helped him achieve all this by giving him the motivation to really make something of himself - Jess.

Jessica Day featured rather heavily in his home - her photo was everywhere. She was the one person he truly credited with helping him become the success he was. He did not have many friends, and the few he’d once thought of as he best friends were no longer a part of his life, so he just didn't bother displaying their photos. But Jess…she was different. She deserved a place of honour in his home.

Nick allowed himself a momentary flicker of pity as her face danced across his psyche.

“No.” His voice boomed in the darkness. “Don’t you dare, Nick.”

Nick rolled onto his back and stared into the darkness. This was all part of the bedtime ritual - a brief, or sometimes not so brief, tumble down the rabbit hole that was his past with Jessica Day.

Her leaving.

The few scattered conversations - where things had seemed just fine.

Then the breakup phone call.

The hurried flight to Oregon.

The heartache.

The stupid mistakes.

The mess he had made and the ruin that had once been his closest friendships.

The collapse.

The hospital.

Then, the decision. Nick’s decision to never again let something this like this happen. He had been ruined by Jess leaving and inexplicable decision to leave him. But when she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him ever again, that had become a moment when he realized he could - should - take control of his future. Jessica Day didn’t feature in that future, the only person who did was himself. He had to control what happened to him.

And so, he decided that nothing in his life was more important than becoming a successful bar owner, and everything that followed was because of that decision. Wherever Jess was, he hoped she at least had some psychic sense that she had helped him become the man he was today - which was something he honoured through this little nightly ritual.

Nick finished replaying those horrible months three years ago in his head, satisfied that he had done her justice yet again he closed his eyes and slipped off to sleep - dreaming of gin and vodka and the musical laugh of a brunette who would forever haunt him.

And outside Nick’s dark apartment, Los Angeles burned on in the California sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy with this chapter - I'm quite enjoying writing Nick like this. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to read and review!
> 
> Tequila Sunrise - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tequila_Sunrise_%28cocktail%29


	3. Chapter 2 - Paralyzer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a good origin story, right? This is the start of Nick's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU - it includes some of the events of season 4, but does not include the proposal at the end in the finale. It branches off from canon around the time of Portland. 
> 
> Remember - this is told entirely from Nick's perspective, you are meant to be as confused as he is.

Nick tabbed through a series of Excel spreadsheets, entering last night’s rather superb receipts. With profits like this coming in, he might actually buy himself those new Marc Jacob shoes he actually liked when he was at The Grove last week. 

Huh...someone spent $1500 all on their own in one night…fuck that, maybe he could buy himself two pairs of shoes. 

Subconsciously, his tongue moved lazily across his lips. If he was ever actually honest with himself, he found looking at the bar’s accounts rather exciting...giving him the special tingle once reserved for members of the opposite sex. Fuck…that was weird. He was getting weird. Really weird. As he tabbed over the food receipts, he actually chuckled to himself at the numbers. 

“Are you getting turned on by your spreadsheets again?” An amused voice came from the doorway. 

Glancing up, Nick saw his best friend - and bar manager - Charlie Maxwell standing in the doorway. Charlie was a tall, picturesque woman with long blond hair, which she had shaved into abstract patterns on one side of her head. The overall effect of her hair, multiple facial piercings and fondness for torn skinny jeans and vintage heavy metal band shirts gave her a slightly crazed punk look. Today, she was wearing her remaining hair in a long braid that hung down the side of her face and was clad in her usual non-work attire: black Guns & Roses tank-top, torn dark jeans and a pair of knee high motorcycle boots. 

“No, just impressed by how well we did last night.”

“Liar. Those spreadsheets are the only thing that ever gives you a hard-on these days.”

“I get erections over a lot things.”

“Right. I also forgot gin, vodka, good reviews, and lemon peel.”

“I do not get hard over lemon peel.” 

“But you’re not denying the others?”

“Fuck off Charlie.”

“Christ, Nick, I was only joking.” 

“Yeah, ok.” He turned his attention back to his spreadsheets, hoping that by ignoring her, she would leave.”

She didn’t, instead she walked into the room and took a seat across the desk from him.

“You’re in a mood...what, did someone not let you finish your leg workout this morning?”

“I’m working. I want to finish this, so I can train the bartenders on the new cocktail for tonight.”

“Another new cocktail? I thought you were going to take yesterday off.”

“I got inspired. Decided to make something new.”

“Nick, seriously, you need a day off. All you do is work.” 

“I like work...ok. Work is more fun than fun.”

“That sounds like a load of crap.”

‘It’s a quote - Noel Coward.”

“Who the fuck is that…?”

“Playwright. He’s funny and gay - which means you should know about him, right?”

“Right, because I’m a lesbian I know every other gay person in history…asshole. And how do you know about him? You don’t read anything but bar-tending books and spreadsheets.”

“An ex liked him.” 

“THE ex?”

Nick sighed. He knew this was going to get in trouble. “Yes.” 

“Nick…" 

“What?”

“You throw a casual reference to THE ex into a conversation, and I’m not supposed to notice it.”

“It was just a quote - a quote I happen to like.”

“Yeah, because it sums up your insanely obsessive lifestyle where all you do is work.”

“I don’t just work." 

“Yes you do.”

“Charlie...please…”

“When was the last time you went to a movie?”

“Don’t like movies.”

“You don’t like movies? Fuck you, your entire apartment is decorated in old movie posters - except for all the photos of your ex." 

“Just stop...I don’t want to do this now. I have to finish these accounts and then I have to make sure the guys know how to make this new cocktail…I don’t want to have this same old argument again.”

“Nick, I’m not trying to argue with you. I’m not. I just want to get you to take a break. Do something other than think about cocktails or finances or whether Mindy Fucking Kailing is going to come to the bar tonight.”

“Is she?”

“What...that’s not the point...but yes, she’s on the list.”

“What?! What time...do we need to reserve a table…”

“Nick!” Charlie sighed, “We’ll have a table set up, okay. But that is not the point." 

Nick made a note about Mindy Kailing - the woman was so needy when it came to service, he’d probably have to serve her himself. “Charlie, I don’t want to take a break. I like working. I enjoy working. What would I do with myself otherwise.”

“I don’t know. Go to the movies, even though you hate them so much apparently. Or have a cup of coffee that does not come out your Nespresso machine at home. Or go on a date.”

“Ha!”

“Why? Why ha?”

 “I don’t date...you know that. You’ve known me for almost three years, I don’t date.”

“Ok, fine. No date. But a movie. Read a book that has nothing to do with booze. Just...something. Please...do something besides spending 100 hours a week working.”

“No. I’m fine Charlie. I like my life...please stop trying to fix it.”

“What about a friend then? Go out with a friend?”

“Charlie…”

“Do you even have friends other than me?”

Nick ignored her and turned his attention back to his computer. 

Charlie stood, watching him from the doorway, with a look of concern on her face. 

Finally, she sighed, “Fine...enjoy your spreadsheets.” She turned and moved through the door, as she closed it, Nick heard her mutter, “What did that woman do to you, Nick?”

Nick glared at the closed door. What right did she have to question anything about what had happened to him - his life was his own. He had made certain choices and he was very comfortable with them. He didn’t like to date - he liked to work. He didn’t need or want many friends - he had one, her, and that was more than enough. 

The life he chosen was safe, it was comfortable. There was never going to be another awful broken heart to paralyze him like Jess had done. And there certainly wasn’t going to be any kind of stupid mistakes like the ones that cost him his closest friendships. 

No. Nick had his bar. He amazingly wonderful, successful bar. 

“Fuck you Charlie. She made me who I am.”

He slammed his hand against the keyboard, knowing full well that his ability to focus on work was gone. The moment Jessica Day entered his thoughts, his focus just crumbled. He grunted, even more irritated at Charlie now…why couldn’t she just have left well enough alone. 

He could feel the memories starting to prickle at the edges of his brain…fuck…he didn't want to go down that route right now. He preferred to leave it until he was lying in his bed, about to sleep. But as much as he tried to force them out of his brain, they came…

**********

***Three years earlier***

LAX was a bustle of activity. To Nick, it seemed as though the entire population of Los Angeles was currently crammed into the JetBlue domestic departure lounge, which was a very unfortunate state of affairs, given his current state of mind. The sound of screaming children, mothers yelling at said screaming children, the constant buzz of CNN playing over the airport loudspeakers and the intermittent bursts of airport announcements was making Nick want to pull his hair out. 

All Nick wanted to do right now was stand on his chair and scream at them all to shut up. To give him five minutes in peace to think - to try and figure out what he was going to do when he got to Portland. To figure out how to get answers to the questions that had been plaguing him since that horrible phone call two nights ago. 

His head snapped up as boarding on his flight was announced. Sighing he pushed himself up off the chair and grabbed his single piece of luggage. As he walked towards the gate door, his brain replayed what had to be the worst night of his life to date. 

\--/--

He had been lounging on their bed, scrolling through Craigslist ads, hoping to come across the perfect apartment. An apartment that just screamed “NICK AND JESS - YOU MUST LIVE HERE!” He wanted an apartment that had the wow factor - whatever apartment they ended up in had to be nothing but Nick & Jess-eriffic. 

So far he had come up with jack squat. 

He sighed as he opened yet another ad promising amazing views, spacious rooms, a working sink...all in 500 square feet for just two thousand bucks. 

“You know,” he said to the empty room, “if you were here, we could just drive over to these places and make fun of them in person...instead, I’m making a dorky list of all the stupid things I want to tell you.”

Hm. He was now talking to an invisible Jess - who was currently in Portland - maybe it would be a good idea to get out of the apartment, or at least go in the living room and hang out with the guys. 

He glanced over at the closed door, weighing the pros and cons of actually going out there, deciding against all that effort he opted to grab his new mixology textbook and start reading. 

He had just finished the first chapter of _The Craft of the Cocktail_ when his phone started quietly playing “Shake It Off” - the ringtone Jess had set for herself on his phone. He grinned. Finally 

“I think I’m obsessed with reading about the history of the cocktail.” Nick rarely answered one of Jess’ phone calls with a standard greeting. 

“Hi Nick.” 

“Hi you.” He smiled at the sound of her voice. 

“How are you?”

“I’m bored. Lying in bed, reading and looking at apartments online. Missing you. 

“Oh.” She sounded distracted. As though this was not a phone call she really wanted to be making. He sat up in bed, pushing himself against the headboard. 

“Are you ok? You sound...off.”

“Not really. I mean...uh...I’m not really ok.”

“Jess, what’s wrong?”He kept his breathing at a minimum - he closed his eyes and tried to practice those breathing exercises the yoga classes she had been dragging him to had taught him. 

“Can we talk?”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

There’s a long pause. For a moment he’s certain she’s hung up. 

“Jess, are you there?”

She sighs, almost inaudibly, but he hears it...he’s attuned to all the variances in her sighs by now. “Nick...I...I can’t do this.”

“Do what Jess?” His stomach is starting to pitch and heave. It is as though he can see the freight train coming, but he’s not sure how to get off the tracks to avoid it. He just has to wait for it to tear through him 

“I’m sorry Nick, but I’m ending us. I’m so sorry.”And the world fell apart beneath him 

“Jess...I, what...I don’t...No!” He screams this last word so loudly that he’s sure Winston and Schmidt heard him...hell, the neighbours down the hall probably heard him.

“Nick, please don’t yell...ok...I just I think its better if we end this. 

“Why?” His mind is drawing a complete blank. He feels as though he watching this moment from far away - watching himself sitting on the bed - their bed - with her silly floral bedspread, and pile of pillows - having to watch...this….whatever this is.

“Its just...well...I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’m not sure we’re right. We’ve been going at things way too fast. It’s just better.”

“Better? Better! No...No….I refuse to believe this. And too fast…what? I’m confused, we’ve been back together for almost two years…and we’re just getting our own place…I don’t know what’s happening. Please Jess, don’t do this. Please.”

“Nick...I’m sorry, but I’m going to stay in Portland for a while, maybe...well, maybe for good.”

“What? Jess, I don’t understand what’s going on right now. A few days ago, we were making plans about apartments and buying a new couch and even adopting a fucking dog...and suddenly, what...what...what is this?”

“Nick, that was all a fantasy.”

“It sure as fuck wasn’t a fucking fantasy TO ME!” He’s crying now. He can feel the hot tears pooling on his cheeks. And he is quite certain that his voice has risen to highly inappropriate levels. 

“I think I was having fun playing at the idea of all that with you…”

“Playing? You were playing? What the fuck is happening, Jess…you know how I feel. You know that I was damn well not playing at anything with you. This…us…its what I want. I want us! I’m not playing, and I don’t think you were - are - either!”

 “Nick…I’m sorry. But I was playing. It wasn’t real…the reality is, well...I’m not ready for all that. And I don’t think I will be for a long while.”

“Then we’ll wait! I’ll wait...we don’t have to move out. We can stay right here...with our stupid roommates, in our perfect Nick and Jess world. Please...please don’t do this.”

“Nick…” another sigh, “What I mean is...well I don’t think I want that...with you.”

The guttural moan that escapes him truly does make it sound like he’s dying. He has no idea what is happening...this is not real. He’s dreaming. He has to be having a nightmare.

“No…”  

“Yes, Nick.”

“This is something else...this has to be something FUCKING ELSE! You don’t just go from happy la-la let’s find an apartment together to I don’t want you in my life ever again. No one does that...what is going on!?”

“I’m so sorry I’m hurting you.”  

“Jess….I. I. I. Please…”

“I’m going to go...you should go and talk to the guys, or…”

“I’m coming to Portland.”

“Nick…”

“I’m coming right now.”

“Don’t…”

“Fuck you! Fuck you and your don’ts - fuck them. I am coming to Portland, and we are going to sit down and we are going to talk. You don’t get to do this without talking to me…we promised each other! We promised that we would always talk about things. And I’m asking you to please talk to me. We made a deal - we weren’t going to stop communicating, but you’re breaking that deal. You have to talk to me. Please! Jess, something else is going on. I know it. I can tell.”

“Nothing else is going on…”

 “Yes it is! You are the woman I love - the only woman I’ve ever loved this much - you don’t love someone as much as I love you and not know when something is going on! I’m getting in my car...I can be there in twelve hours. 

“No! I don’t want you to. Don’t you dare drive like this...you’ll hurt yourself!”  

“Then tell me what is going on!” 

“Nick. Please don’t. Don’t come to Portland. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I want to be left alone. If you come, I won’t see you. I just won’t”

“Fuck you! Just fuck you, Jess...you don’t get to do this!”

“Goodbye, Nick.”

“No! Jess...you were my one and only. You were my Jess. You ARE my Jess. Please please please please...tell me what’s going on.” 

“I’m sorry.”And with that he heard the phone disconnect. 

He sat there. Silent. Staring at the phone in his hand. 

What 

Just….

Happened... 

Jess...his Jess...had just ended it? No. That couldn’t be right. No.

There had to be something going on. There had to be. This was not like her. Jess was like queen of talking about her emotions - she could host her own damn daytime talk show about it - so whatever was going on was something big…something huge…she felt she needed to hide.  

His eyes moved rapidly around the room. Eventually landing on a photo of them at the Santa Monica Pier - they were goofing off for the camera: eating at Pier Burger...he had a giant glob of ketchup on his mouth and she, laughing, was trying to wipe it off. Cece had taken the photo.   

Cece. 

Cece...Jess had no secrets from Cece. Cece would know what this was all about. He could talk to Cece and find out what was going on and then he could go to Portland and fix it.

He threw himself at the bedroom door. Yanking it open, he stumbled into the hallway. 

“Call Cece!” 

Winston and Schmidt who had been sitting staring with looks of concern towards Jess and Nick’s bedroom, shot up from the couch. “Nick…” Winston started. 

“Call her. Someone call Cece…please...please...please...please...Fuck!”

As Schmidt pulled out his phone to call Cece, Nick sagged to the floor and buried his face in his hands. Through his sobs, he heard Schmidt talking, “Cece - uh - I think you better get over here now. Right now.”

Cece appeared thirty minutes later, a flurry of activity dressed in flowing whites and browns that make whirlwinds of fabric as she moved around the loft. 

The guys, meanwhile, had managed to get Nick onto the couch and had started to get him calmed down enough to get the primary bits of information out of him. 

Jess had left him.

Jess was staying in Portland.

Jess had refused to see him. 

Nick was slowly sipping on a glass of water when Cece knelt in front of him. 

“Nick…” She touched his face. She never touched him - it was some kind of weird unspoken Cece and Nick rule. “What happened?" 

He swallowed. “Uh, she called...I made some k...kind of joke about my book and then she just said she wanted to end it.” 

“Ok, what else did she say?”

“That she didn’t want to be with me. That she didn’t want a future with me…” 

“Did she say why?” 

“No. I asked and asked and begged...and she refused to say anything. She just kept saying ‘Nothing else is going on’ and that this is what she wanted.” 

“Ok…”

“But I know...I can tell...something else is wrong. Cece, I know her. I know how she acts when something is wrong...and something is wrong!”

“And you said you’d come to Portland?” 

“Yes...god yes...she refused. She told me she wouldn’t see me if I did.” 

“Nick...I’m sorry, but I have to ask...you didn’t do anything did you?”

“What!? NO!” Nick started to push himself up off the couch, his eyes flashing in anger.  

“I didn’t think so. Calm down…Ok, I’m going to call her right now.”

“Thank you...please find out what’s wrong. Please.” 

“Stay here...drink some more water.”

Cece pushed herself up and walked into Schmidt’s room, shutting the door behind her. She was gone for half an hour...when she walked out, her face was puffy and her eyes were red.

“Cece…” Schmidt started, “What happened?” 

“Apparently, she doesn’t want to talk to me either. Or see me. Or have anything else to do with any of us…” 

Nick stood up, turning to look at her. “What…”

“Nick is going to Portland,” Cece stated, her voice hard and angry. “And when he gets there, Jessica Day is going to tell him exactly what the fuck is going on.”

\--/--

Two days later, with a little help from his friends’ credit cards, Nick was on a plane about to descend into Portland International Airport. He had a return ticket for the following day - one he very much hoped that he would be able to miss. 

He ran his sweaty palms down his thighs, trying not to think of the inevitable confrontation with his (currently ex) girlfriend. He honestly had no idea what he was going to say, but he was certain it involved demanding an explanation and, if need be, a marriage proposal. 

Go big or go home, right?

As the plane touched down, Nick’s stomach suddenly twisted painfully. His chest constricted and he found himself gasping for breath - this had been happening a bit too regularly since the phone call from Jess. The headaches, shaking hands and blurry visions were also new - apparently all clear signs of a panic attack...he hoped. But he was certain that once he and Jess had a chance to work everything out, these little episodes would stop, because Jess could always calm him down and make him feel more centred.  

He barely noticed as he moved through the airport. Stopping at the Enterprise car rental desk to get his pre-paid rental car - thanks Schmidt - and then navigating his way into downtown Portland. 

He had only been here once before with Jess - on the day of her father’s wedding - but even so, he felt as though he knew exactly where he was going. Everything he saw reminded him of her - the adorable little restaurants, the people playing guitars on street corners, pop up farmers markets...all of it was her. He sometimes forgot that Portland was a place with people other than just Jessica Day in it. 

Jess’ mom’s house was a pretty small white building on a regular residential street. He parked and sat, staring at the house, for a few moments contemplating what he was going to say.  

Approach this rationally. 

Approach this with a level, cool head. 

Don’t get angry. 

Ask her questions and be respectful of her answers. 

The amount of advice given to him by his friends had been expansive - except by Cece, who had one thing to suggest: “Tell her you love her and will do whatever she needs to make this better.”

Nick closed his eyes and repeated those words to himself as he got out of the car and walked up the path to the front door. He sucked in a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.  

The door opened moments later and Abby Day stood there - staring at him. She looked tired and irritated.

“She did tell you she didn’t want you to come, you know?”

“And did she really expect me to just not come?”

“No. Which is why she’s gone.”

“Gone…?”

“Yeah. Look, Nick. I’m not sure what is going on with you - but she’s pretty clear on this: she does not want to see you or be with you or anything.”

The words hit him like a tire iron. He closed his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. “Fuck…”

“Yeah...sucks man.” 

“I want to see her. I want to hear this from her!” 

“You did. On the phone.”

“I deserve to hear this from her.” Pushing forward, he edged past Abby to yell into the house, “I FUCKING DESERVE TO HEAR THIS FROM YOU!” 

“She’s not here, man.” 

“So where is she?”

“Gone.” 

“Gone where?” 

“Just gone...Nick. Look I’m sorry, but there’s not a lot else I can say.”

“You’re lying to me. Just like she was lying the other night...please just tell me what is going on. I love her. I love her so much, whatever this is I will do anything I can to fix it. I will do whatever it is - just please don’t do this to me!” The last, he again yelled into the house.

Abby put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Stop, dude. Look, whatever little monogamous fantasy you had going on with my sister is over. She doesn’t want it anymore. She doesn’t want that life. You need to give it up, go home, cry into your cheap ass hipster beer and get over it.” Abby’s voice had become harsh, almost cruel. But there was something behind it - like what she was saying and how she was saying were things she just didn’t believe. 

“And what about everything else in LA, huh? What about CECE, JESS?” Nick was cracking. He was losing it. He knew he could strong-arm Abby and force his way into the house, search room by room looking for her. But but there was was something that told him that if he did that, he would probably end up in jail. 

“Look...Jess is done with LA. She had a good run there...be happy you were part of it. But its done now. She’s done with it now. And yeah, that includes that judgemen…it includes Cece. I wish I had different answers for you, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Abby, please, what is going on? What did I or Cece do? Just explain it...this is not right, not fair...you know that! I deserve some kind of explanation!”

Abby sighed. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small blue envelope, which she held out to him. “Here.” 

“What is this?” He felt almost hesitant to take it. Afraid that it would either poison him or harm him in some way.

“A letter. It’s for you...from her.”

“Abby…” his voice felt rather small, “is she in trouble?”

Abby laughed - he couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not - “What kind of trouble, Nick?”

“I don’t know...ok, I just don’t know. But if she is, I can help...she just needs to tell me.”

Abby shook her head. “She’s not here. She’s not in trouble. Just read the fucking letter and then go home...wallow in your grief and then get the fuck over it.” 

 “This isn’t fair...this isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“Well, life isn’t fucking fair - is it? Go home, Nick...fly back to LA where the angels live. See ya around.” With a nod, she shut the door. 

Nick stood there for a very long time. Staring at the closed door. He looked down at the blue envelope in his hand, it felt heavy - like the words written within were weighted down with concrete slabs. Slowly, Nick turned and walked back towards his car. He sat behind the wheel, staring at the envelope for an incredibly long time. Finally he opened it.  

Like ripping a band aid off.

_Nick,_

_I kind of figured you were going to come to Portland. I’m sorry I just can’t see you right now - it would be too hard. Please don’t think that what I am doing is because of you - it is not. It is completely because of me. I need to figure out what I want in my life - and right now that doesn’t include you._

_I loved you so much. But I think I need to move on - and I want you to, too. You deserve to move on and find someone amazing. I once told you that you shouldn’t have to settle, that you deserve something amazing - I thought I could be that for you, but I can’t...not anymore._  

_I can’t come back to LA - I just won’t. We can figure something out about the stuff I left behind._

_Goodbye Nick-Bear._

_J._  

_P.S. Tell Cece I’m sorry._

Nick read the letter, then read it again and again and again...he must have read the letter at least fifty times before he could start the car and drive back to the airport. 

He felt numb. 

What was going on...what was this? He thought about the letter again. It said nothing. Absolutely fuck all. 

He pulled over onto the side of the road, taking out his cell, he called Jess.

“Hi! This is Jess...awesome to hear from you! Sorry I can’t talk right now, but I’m busy - leave me your digits! Oh god, that sounds so dated now...just um leave me a message. Yeah…”

“Jess. I got your letter. You were right, I did come to Portland. Look...that letter was bullshit. It said nothing. Something is going on...please tell me what. I’m going to drive around the city for a few hours, I’ll try to find you...but if you get this and want to meet me. I will be at the airport tomorrow - I’ll be next to the JetBlue departure desks. Please call or be there...we can go home together. We can fix whatever is wrong, just come...just call...please."

Nick pulled the car back onto the road and turned it back towards the city. 

For the next eight hours, he did nothing but drive around the city - going from store to store to store looking for her.  

Nothing...and he had no idea what to do or where to look next. 

He tried the park - all the parks - but she wasn’t there. 

He tried the area by the river - nothing.

Food truck parks. Bookstores. Coffeeshops. Grocery stores. Hiking trails.  

Short of going door to door for every house and building in the city, he was out of ideas. 

He slumped down in the car seat. He was exhausted. His head hurt so much, his body hurt so much. His heart...well he still felt numb. 

There was only one thing left to do, go back to the airport and hold out beyond hope that she would be there.  

He pulled out onto Burnside and aimed his car towards the airport. 

He got there in thirty minutes. The woman at the Enterprise desk was surprised that he was returning the car on the same day, he just shrugged at her.  

He then deposited himself on a bench near the JetBlue desks and waited. He eventually fell asleep, sitting up, around 2 am. Waking again at 6:30, he dragged himself to the closest coffee shop - even at the airport, Portland managed to have an abundance of indie coffee shops - he ordered the largest and strongest coffee possible. Then he went back to his bench. And he waited.  

His phone beeped once - a message from Schmidt looking for an update. He ignored it. 

6:30 became 10:30, which then became 1:30. 

He went and got a sandwich - always within sight of the bench. He then returned to his spot. The JetBlue people started to notice him. One woman asked if she could help him, he said no...he was waiting for someone. 

1:30 became 3:30. He had an hour and a half left.  

He looked at his phone.  

Nothing. 

4:00.  

He called her. 

Voicemail. 

 “Jess. Please, this isn’t funny...I’m here. I came to Portland for you. I’m at the airport...please. Please Please. Just give me a sign...call me, text me...I don’t care what. But don’t make me go through security alone. I can’t do this. Please come...I have to go in an hour.”

An hour passed. Nick knew. She wasn't coming. 

She was never going to come. 

He stood, wiped his eyes and walked through security. 

An hour later he was on a plane flying back to LA...he still felt numb. It wasn’t until he walked back into the loft, past the questioning eyes of Schmidt, Winston and Cece that he started to hurt. He stopped at the door to their...his...bedroom and took out the letter. He just dropped it on the floor. 

“Read it if you want. It says nothing. She’s not coming back”

He opened the bedroom door, went in, and disappeared into his grief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paralyzer - http://www.barnonedrinks.com/drinks/v/vodka-paralyzer-5747.html


	4. Chapter 3 - Hanky Panky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbreak and mistakes.

Nick hated thinking about the past - it really didn't do anything for him. But that didn’t mean that he stayed totally ignorant of it. Instead, he tended to sectionalize his past. As far as he was concerned, the past was divided up into four periods: pre-Jessica Day, Jessica Day, post-Jessica Day and The Bar.

Pre-Jessica Day was pretty much a shadowy haze at this point - he could no more remember what his life had been like before she’d walked into his life than he could remember his time in the womb. He had just accepted that it had happened and had simply been a precursor to get him to Jess.  

The Jessica Day period - well that was entirely different. That part of his life was filled with light and love and colour. It was the period of his life that he thought about occasionally when he needed to bring a smile to his face or it was the period that popped into his mind when he least expected it. He considered it to be the best period of his life - even now, with his bar and his success, it didn’t have the same resonance as when Jess had been a fixture.  

Then there was the post-Jessica Day period. This was the worst period - even if it was the lead up to The Bar - because it was filled with hurt and sadness. But even more than that, it was filled with some of the worst mistakes of Nick’s life. Mistakes he’d never be able to fix. Mistakes that had cost him his two best friends - all because he’d been so entrenched in his grief for Jess to really understand that what he was doing was hurting people.

And now, as Nick sat in his office, seemingly trapped in a black hole of memories, he let himself remember those weeks and months after Jess had left him. He let himself remember his worst mistakes. 

***********

***Three Years Ago***

Three weeks had passed since he gotten back from Portland. Three weeks since Nick had become a kind of emotional zombie. Since arriving home, he mostly passed his time in bed, seeing how long he could lie in one position before some part of him either fell asleep or started cramping. It was a fun game - the longest had been 6 hours curled up on his right side. 

The moment he’d arrived home, he had changed into his favorite t-shirt and a pair of sweats, and then he’d gotten into bed. Since then, he had not moved much. He would occasionally wander into the rest of the loft - either during the day when the guys were at work or very late at night, grabbing food or some water. 

But he rarely actually ate, he really had no real appetite. 

His phone had gone off a few times - the bar wondering where he was, his school asking why he had not turned in weekly assignments or attended the online classes. Eventually, the battery had died - he didn’t bother to plug it in. 

Old Nick - the before Jess Nick - would have found solace in the bottom of a bottle of Jack and gotten shitfaced, then escaping out onto the streets of LA to punctuate this whole mess with some humiliating public scene. But it wasn’t before Jess Nick, this was the new Nick. The post Jess Nick. And every other woman who had broken his heart had meant about a million times less to him than Jess. Jess was the reason for the NICK’S GREAT PLAN FOR SUCCESS - she was the one who inspired him to think about even buying a bar of his own. She was the one who made him wanted to be…more.

Nick was a fuck up. He knew that. For thirty years of his life he’d been ok with it. He liked that he didn’t trust banks or governments or anyone with any kind of authorial role. He liked that he only owned one pair of shoes and two pairs of pants...because his life was simple and he didn’t need any more than that. And he liked the person he had been. He liked being angry at things that normal people would never get angry over. He liked keeping people at an arms length - because he hated dealing with strangers. He liked being emotionally walled off. Those were things he liked about himself. Until she walked into his life. 

 Jessica Day. 

Perfect, wonderful, beautiful Jessica Day. 

 And suddenly, all those things he liked about himself were not ok anymore. They were the things that made him undatable. They were the things that made him unattractive to her. They made him not function in a relationship. And, sure he wasn’t about to become exclusively optimistic and happy about everything (that was her job), but he had become less irrationally angry. He had bought a second pair of shoes. He had taken a sledgehammer to those emotional walls and let her in.

And in doing so, Nick Miller had completely changed the direction of his life. Jess had helped him mature - helped him realize that he didn’t need to be a complete mess all the time. She helped him realize that he could actually do something with his life. That he might be good at something. Being a lawyer had failed because he hated that world and if he had been a part of it, the person he was becoming would never have emerged. But being an underpaid bartender was not worth it either - he couldn’t give her the things he wanted to give her with ten bucks an hour, plus tips. So he had decided to change his life. 

And he’d been so excited to explore that new life with her. Until she decided that she didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. 

 Now, instead of having the person who inspired him to be the best possible version of himself, all he had a dark room that smelled like three week old sweat and sour milk from the litter of cereal bowls stacked next to his bed. 

 He was grieving for a life that had felt so obtainable just three weeks before. He was grieving for a heart that didn’t feel whole anymore. He was just grieving…and he was quite certain that the hurt would never stop. And for some reason, no one was just letting him grieve. The guys and Cece kept trying to help him - kept trying to get him out of his room, but they were generally met with violent refusals. 

Like right now. 

As he shifted, yet again, to try and time how long he could lie on his stomach, he heard the door open.

“Holy mother of god, it stinks in here.” Schmidt hissed.  

 “Jesus, Nick - this is bad. This is disgusting.” Cece was standing next to him in the doorway. 

Nick, unhappy that his game was being interrupted, rolled over to face the wall - the last time he tried this position he’d managed three hours and fifteen minutes, he was certain he could beat that.

“Nick,” Oh good, Winston was here too. “Man, you gotta get up and take a shower dude. Your school called - if you miss another class, they’re gonna flunk you out.”

“Fuck off Winston” His own voice sounded hoarse and foreign to him - he guessed it was because he didn’t really use it all that often.

“No, seriously, dude. You gotta get up.” Winston had stepped closer to the bed. 

Nick, rolled back over, reached out from under his blanket and gave his friend a shove. He then turned back to resume counting. “Just leave me alone.” 

Nick squeezed his eyes closed, he didn’t want people to see him - he certainly didn’t want his roommates giving pity or sympathetic looks. He just wanted to be left alone. 

She was gone. Jess was gone. He’d taken her to the airport, kissed her at the entrance to security and then she was gone...and it wasn’t a temporary thing. She wasn’t coming back. It made him want to scream - scream so long and loud that his vocal cords broke. 

Sighing, Winston turned and pushed Schmidt and Cece out the room, leaving the bedroom door open. He could hear them in the living room - that was probably on purpose. 

Why can’t they just shut up!

Schmidt was the loudest, “We’ve tried everything! Hasn’t eaten anything in days, certainly hasn’t taken a shower - that room is reaching toxic levels, I can barely stand walking past it. I’m completely out of ideas. Has she said anything to you, Cece?”

Cece sounded like she had been crying, “Nothing. She won’t take my calls either - I don’t fucking know what’s going on. All I know is she told him that she didn’t want to be with him, refused to see him in Portland and is apparently never coming back to LA. And that includes talking or seeing me!”

Winston, “Shit. Well, we have to do something. He’s gonna fail out of this small business program before he even gets started.” 

Cece sighed, “I took care of that.”

“How?!” Two incredulous voices sounded out.

“I called them and told them he was going through a rather significant loss and asked if he could make up the time because of it. They said yes, he can pick up the online tutorials and stuff when he can.”

“You are a goddess.” Schmidt sounded happy - how could Schmidt be happy, didn’t he know that Nick’s heart had been ripped from his chest and was being crushed to a bloody pulp somewhere on the I-90. 

And then Nick re-heard what Cece had said. 

Cece had helped take care of him. She had made it so he might actually have a chance at this whole school thing…

...Jess…

Fuck! Could her name or face not just stay out of his mind for a second. Fuck. 

...But he could talk to Cece. She was dealing with this just as much as he was. She and Jess have been friends for 20 years and suddenly she was being cut out of Jess’ life. What was going on? Why was Jess doing this? He could understand her doing it to him, but to Cece? 

Without pausing to reconsider, Nick called out, “I’ll talk to Cece - but only Cece.”

His words were met with complete silence. Then, from the doorway, “Okay, let’s talk, but you need to shower first. It smells like a literal dead animal lives in here.”

“Ok. But we talk in private. I can’t do this outside - in public - I’m going to cry and I’d rather not have too many witnesses to that.” 

“The roof? Thirty minutes?”

 “Deal.”

—/—

Thirty minutes later, a freshly washed and shaved Nick walked onto the roof wearing a pair of cargo shorts, a t-shirt Jess had bought him at a Belle and Sebastian concert and his Chicago Bulls hat. They had been right - which he hated to admit - but he almost felt slightly more human having washed off the stink of the last few weeks.

Cece was standing near the edge of the roof, holding a glass of wine. There were two bottles of white sitting next to her on a table, along with a second glass. 

 “Have some wine.” She gestured to the glass.

“Thanks. Got anything stronger?”

“No, Winston apparently is hiding all the good booze from you.”

“Sounds about right.”

“They said this is worse than any of the times with Caroline.”

“It is. I didn’t love her like I love Jess.”

“I’m sorry this is happening.”

“Me too. I’m sorry she’s doing this to you too.”

Cece turned to face him. Her eyes were red and filled with anger. “I hate crying.”

“Really - the last few weeks, I’ve grown to rather like it. I think I’ve lost a lot of water weight because of this.”

“How can you joke?”

“Because I don’t know what else to do.”

“Heh.”Cece sighed and took a long pull from her glass, draining it. She picked up the bottle and refilled her glass. She seemed to thinking of something - as though she knew exactly what she wanted to do. 

Nick moved to stand next to her, he placed his hands on the railing and looked out over the valley - it was so god damn sunny, he could barely stand it. It was the kind of day Jess would have loved. They would almost certainly be at a farmers market or down in the park or maybe up here, just lounging on the deck chairs. She would have been making up some kind of ridiculous song about whatever they were doing. He would have been laughing and kissing her because he loved her ridiculous songs. Because he loved her. 

Instead, he was standing here with her best friend and they were about to talk about whatever it was that was happening with Jess. Why she had disappeared back to Portland and apparently from their lives altogether - barely a phone call, or an email or anything. He had gotten the most - a brief 20 minute phone call and a vague letter handed to him by her sister, informing him that his relationship was over and he shouldn’t waste his time trying to get it back. 

“I hate her.” Cece’s voice and words startled him. 

“You don’t…”

“I want to hurt her.”

“Don’t say that, please?”

“You don’t? She disappeared. She left you - just as things were really starting to sort themselves out, just as things were getting to the really good part.”

“Cece…”

“No. Don’t you Cece me, Nick Miller. She left you. All those issues you had before, you guys had fixed them. She told me herself that she saw this as a forever thing - a one-guy, no others kind of deal. And then poof, she’s suddenly gone. Well, fuck her.”

“Are you mad at her because of what she did to me, or because of what she’s doing to you.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” 

“Cece...I know I’m not a great friend of yours, more a friend by association through girlfriend, well ex-girlfriend now, but I can still listen.”

Cece turned back to look over the valley. She was quiet for a long time. A shadow seemed to pass slowly over face, her eyes were unfocused. She was clearly thinking long and hard about exactly what she was going to say. 

Nick stood next to her, equally as quiet. Lost in his thoughts over the past few weeks. 

Then...

“We tell each other everything, Nick. Literally everything. I know things you would balk at. I know exactly when she gets her period. I know why she sings so much. I know the real reason behind the crazy ass night peanuts. I know that you do things to her in bed that can make her gasp just by thinking about them. So, whatever is going on right now is bigger than me...and there is nothing bigger than me. And what do I get?”

“I don’t…”

“I get a fucking ‘I need a clean break from LA and everything.’ And a ‘I’m so sorry.’ Well, fuck her sorries. Fuck them! We’ve been friends for twenty fucking years, Nick! And this what I get!? I have talked to her mom, her dad, even her bratty sister - and they call tell me that this is what she wants! To just accept this. Well…I can’t. I’m angry. I’m hurt and I’m angry.” 

Nick watches her out of the corner of his eye. Her chest is heaving and her eyes are filled with tears. He had been so lost in his own grief and hurt that he never even thought about what this was doing to Jess’ best friend. Fuck… And as much as he didn’t want to entertain the thought - what she’d just said, well it fit with the one theory that he couldn’t avoid thinking about every minute of ever day. 

So he asked the question he dreaded having an answer to. 

“Do you think its someone else?” Nick sort of blurts out the question - giving voice to his most intimate fear. The darkest thought that he’s had over the last three weeks.

“What?” She quite literally spins towards him.

Do you think it’s someone else?”

“No...I..I…” She paused, thinking, a look of horror spreading across her face.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” He growls, grabbing one of the wine bottles, draining it in one go. “Something bigger than you? Something she couldn’t tell you? Something that would cause her to disappear like this and just shut us out so suddenly? Honestly tell me, do you think it is someone else?”

“Fuck.” She turns to look out over the valley again. Her hand starts shaking. The look on her face was one of pure, unadulterated rage. Nick knew all about her views on infidelity. She saw it as weak and pathetic and a sign of immorality. He shared those feelings - because he only had eyes for Jess. 

She sighs, a deeply angry sigh. “Has she been acting weird?” Her voice is so low it barely sounds like her.

“If you count suddenly flying off to Portland and refusing to let her boyfriend come along as completely normal, then no - no weiredness.”

Cece snorts slightly.  “Late nights? Weird phone calls? Cancelled pans?”

“No. None of that. Cece, we were planning on…”

“Moving out? Yes, I know. She told me.”

“Huh? We weren’t telling you guys yet…”

‘I’m not ‘you guys’, I’m Cece...nothing is bigger than I am.”

“Right.” They stood there, silently, for a very long time. Then, he whispered, “I’m never going to get over her...I think I know that.”

“I’m sorry, Nick. God.”

He sighed in response and reached for the other bottle of wine. Her hand grasped his arm, stopping him. He looked at her, questioningly. “Cece…?”

“I want to hurt her, Nick.” Her voice was low and dark.

“I...I...can’t fathom hurting her. Maybe in…”

And suddenly Cece was kissing him. 

The kiss was unlike any that he and Jess had ever shared. It was not soft. It was certainly not gentle. Nick was not entirely sure the emotion he felt behind it was lust or desire - unless it was lust and desire driven by anger. 

He tried to pull away, but she held on, her hands curling into fists in the fabric of his shirt. She pulled him forward, deepening the kiss and he found himself responding - as much as he didn’t want to, as much as he wanted to push her away, he missed being this close to another person. His eyes fluttered closed and his mouth moved against hers. He suddenly felt her hot tongue moving against his own - the sensation sparked something unexpected. Something primal that he didn’t expect to respond. He grunted and pushed against her, pressing himself against her. She seemed to take that as a sign of encouragement and deepened the kiss even more. 

She tightened her grip on his shirt, until he both felt and heard it tearing. 

Seemingly happy that she’d destroyed his shirt, her hand moved downwards, grabbing his increasingly worrisome erection. 

He pulled back in surprise. Panting, his shirt torn to expose his chest. He had no idea what to think - he stared at her in shock and confusion. This wasn’t what he wanted, it wasn’t what he’d come to the roof for. He shook his head, frowning. “Cece…?”

She stepped forward, invading his personal space again. “I want to hurt her.” She growled. “So you and I are going to fuck, Nick. Deal with it.” 

“What? What the fuck are you talking about? We can’t have sex!”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re Jess’ best friend!”

“Ex-best friend. And you’re her ex-boyfriend.”

“Exactly.”

“No, not exactly…she abandoned us, Nick. For someone else. If she gets to screw around on us, then we can screw around on her!” She took another step closer. “I want this, Nick.”

“And what about what I want?”

“Do you want to get back at her?”

“I…I..I..” Nick’s mind flashed to Jess’ face as she walked through security more than a month earlier - he thought it had been excitement over seeing her mom, excitement at the idea of a mini break, time to recoup and have some Jess time. But what if it hadn’t been…what if it was excitement over seeing…him…whoever he was. He thought about the phone call. He thought about the letter and the way Abby treated him. Jessica Day would never cheat on him. He was sure of that…he had to be sure of that…he had always been sure of that. Until now. Now that he had voiced his darkest thought to Cece, it struck him that maybe he had never been sure enough. He looked at Cece, certain that there were tears in his eyes and he nodded. 

He just nodded. 

She put her hand on his chest again - it felt warm - and all he wanted was for it not to be Cece’s hand. He wanted it to be Jess’. But it was never going to be Jess’ hand again. He’d never hold that hand or feel that warm soft skin again. His tears started coming harder. 

“I’m going to kiss you again, ok?”

This time he offered no resistance. 

******

The first time they had sex was right there on the roof. 

Cece pushed him against the railing, holding him still with one hand while unbuttoning his shorts and shoving them down to his ankles. Then, looking at him in the eye, said softly - her voice a mixture of sympathy, hurt and anger, “I know you’re sad, Nick. I am too…I’m so mad at her I can’t even explain it. But I also feel useless…and I hate feeling like that. I need to do something and this is a thing we can do. So…just fucking get on board with this.”

Then she dropped to her knees. 

And Nick Miller’s mind went blank.

The second time they had sex was later that night. 

Nick, after returning to his room - which was now surprisingly clean and actually smelled nice thanks to Schmidt - was sitting on his bed, trying to process what had happened on the roof. He sat there with a million confused thoughts sifting through his brain - he shouldn't be feeling okay with what had happened on the roof, but he was. He hated the idea that he and Cece were using sex as a kind of weapon against Jess, but if it was true - if there was another guy - then… would he be ok with this? 

He knew there were a lot of complicated feelings involved here - not the least of which were Schmidt’s unresolved attraction to Cece. But the more he tried he just found he couldn’t bring himself to think about Schmidt’s feelings…all he could think about was his pain. It felt like his grief over losing Jess overshadowed his ability to be rational about anything. Because this was Jess and she had just dropped a napalm bomb on his heart and their relationship and if it was true - if the horrible idea was true - and there was another man, then she deserved this. 

 She deserved to have her best friend swallow her boyfriend’s cock. Which was probably the single most disgusting sentence he’d ever allowed himself to think.

But his anger at her - his newly unearthed drive to hurt her - was all contingent on the idea that she WAS sleeping with someone else, that she had abandoned what they had because she met someone else. What he was about to start - what he had already started with Cece - could only happen as long as that was a reality. 

The flood of doubt he felt about whether she in fact gone off with someone better than him was causing him to falter. Causing him to regret what had just happened on the roof. And yet, he knew there was a part of him that wouldn’t say no next time…

Nick sat on the bed, staring at the floor - mind awash in regrets and hurt and images of both Jess and Cece. One by one, Winston and Schmidt came to check on him. Winston brought him a bag of fast food - In-n-Out Burger - which they ate sitting silently on the bed. Schmidt came by with a few bottles of Gatorade. “Stay hydrated, dude.”

But much later, after all the other doors had been closed, she appeared - sometimes he forgot that Jess had given her a key. Cece opened the door, wearing a knee length red dress and carrying her shoes in one hand, she paused in the doorway. Looked at him, sitting on the end of the mattress, and dropped her shoes. 

“Take off your clothes.”

“Cece…”

“I said, take off your fucking clothes, Nick. This is how we get back at her.”

 “Somehow I don’t think this is very healthy.”

“Fuck healthy...now are you going to take those damn pants off or do I have to do it for you?”

Sighing, he stood up and took of his shorts.

She smiled and slipped off her red dress.  

And once again, Nick Miller’s mind went blank.

The third time they had sex was two days later. 

He had just finished his breakfast and was sitting at the table reading his mixology textbook - well reading might be a strong word, more like staring intently at the page but not actually absorbing any of it. Rather he was picking out certain letters - J. E. S. S. I. C. A. D. A. Y. 

The front door opened and she walked in, this time wearing workout clothes. 

“Good you’re home.”

“Yeah.” He muttered, not really looking up from finding the fifteenth set of Jessica Days in the last thirty minutes. 

 She walked over and started removing things from the table. 

“What are you doing?”

 “Making space.” 

“For what?”

“So we can have sex on the table.”

 “No...I’m not doing that.”

“You and Jess had sex on it once, right?”

“She told you that?!”

“Yup…so we’re doing to do it in all the places you guys did it, until she’s out of your system and we both feel better. Now…clothes. Off. Now.”

“Cece. Please….how is this helping anyone or hurting her?”

She slammed her hand on the table. “Because it is. Because it makes me feel better about whatever fucking stupid thing this is about...she did something to us, we do something to her. And this would kill her.”

 “I don’t want to kill her…I love her.”

 “She left you. Probably for another guy. I’m offering you the chance to do something dirty and naughty and wrong that would make her feel horrible - which is exactly what she should be feeling. Now…” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a condom, “...take your pants off, put that on - which should be easy, since I can you’re already hard - and get up on the table.” 

 “Cece…”

 “Just do it.”  

 Nick stared at her. “I don’t know if I can…”

“She hurt you. You’re a wreck - make her feel that. Take some control.”

Nick sighed. He wasn’t entirely sure that this had anything to do with him having any sort of control...more the control rested entirely in Cece’s hands. But she was right...this would hurt Jess...and she had hurt him. “I…this is too much.”

 “Nick…look at me.”

 He did. 

“What alternative is there? Are you going to go back and be a hermit and not wash or eat properly? Or are you going to get crazy drunk and probably humiliate or hurt yourself? Or are you going to go out and have a bunch of horrible anonymous sex with girls who don’t give a shit about why you’re so sad after? This…what we’re doing…its safe. And when we think about her with her other man in Portland, we can work out that anger together…I’m not offering you a relationship, I’m offering you a fuck-buddy or friends with benefits type deal. People do it all the time.”

 “Not for these reasons.”

 “I’ve done it for less.” She held out the condom again. 

He stared at the foil package. He could walk away and go to his room right now and forget this ever happened. And then in he could cry and rage over Jess and…and what…he’d do exactly what Cece was saying he’d do. 

“Take control, Nick.” Cece grasped his hand. “She took it away from you. Take some back.”

He moved his eyes from the condom up to her face. She looked sad and as unsure of herself as he felt. He realized that she wasn’t entire clear on whether this was something they should be doing…but she was taking control. He pushed himself up and kissed her.  Then, he took off his pants, put on the condom and hopped up on the table. 

This time he found that when his mind went blank that he liked it...he liked it a lot. 

A strange kind of pattern started to emerge. At night, she would visit him after everyone else had gone to bed...and it was always the same:

“Hi Nick.”

“Hi Cece.”

“Take off your pants.”

Somedays she would also appear in the mornings, after everyone had gone to work, and they would do it on every conceivable surface in the loft. After each time, she would stand, smile at him and ask: 

“Starting to hurt less?”

He would always answer, “No.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight.”

And she would be gone. 

Occasionally, it would happen at other times or outside the loft. Once, their affair crossed into their professional lives and they had sex against the beer kegs in the back room at the bar. Once in the backseat of his car. Once, in a moment of weakness he had gone back to the movie theatre where he’d surprised Jess for her birthday - Cece had followed him. He’d gone down on her in an empty theatre. It felt good. 

The roof was a common spot for them. So was the elevator. His bed was the most common, although the kitchen table was a close second. 

Once, he started crying during sex - not because it was bad or anything, but because he missed Jess so much. Missed being able to do this with her. Missed the feeling of her body reacting to his…and as much as he tried telling himself that he was taking control of this…as much as he tried to tell himself that what he and Cece were doing was normal, that it was just a friends with benefits type deal…it was all just a bit too much. 

He managed to speed up and finish quickly just so he could roll off her and curl into a ball and cry. 

Cece didn’t bother comforting him - this thing was not about comfort - it was about hurt, anger and control. 

“I’m not going to hug you or anything.”

“Did I ask you to?” His voice is muffled because his face is pressed down towards his chest.

“No. But I’m still not going to do it.”

“I just...I just miss her so much.”

“Hm...then, I will see you tonight. Make sure you go to class tomorrow...I’m not sure how much longer this whole grief excuse can cut it”

And with that, she got up, put her dress back on and was gone.  

The surprising thing was that he did indeed go to class the next day. In fact, he started going on a regular basis. 

He’d once tried to talk to her about his classes - for some unknown reason he’d transferred Jess’ interest in his life onto Cece. Thankfully, he was put in his place.

“No, Nick...I am not your girlfriend. I don’t care about your school or business thing. I care about you taking your pants off.”

“I just wanted to tell you…”

“You can tell me how good this feels…” Her hand disappeared into his shorts. “...or you can tell me about how much you want a blow job or what you think shower sex would be like. Or you can tell me about how happy you are that everything we’re doing is going to hurt her. How you feel like this is the ultimate weapon. But you may not, ever, talk to me about school or your life.”

“I’m sorry.” He bit his lip - not from the sensation party going on in his pants, but from the uncontrollable urge to start crying.

“Don’t be sorry...be horny.”

And suddenly his pants were off. 

To make things even worse, it was starting to get more and more awkward with Schmidt. He was clearly still pining for Cece, but didn't want to show it around Nick, knowing how much Nick was suffering over the breakup...and yet, he had no idea that almost every night Nick was banging the object of his affection. He was being considerate to Nick. Only talking about Cece to Winston and never mentioning dating or sex or women when Nick was around. 

But Nick knew - he knew all too well how Schmidt felt because he often heard Schmidt and Winston talking in the living room...in hushed voices.

“I think I want to ask her out again. Its been years...man...she might be open to it.”

“If you do, you gotta keep it on the downlow - at least until Nick is a bit more like himself. Yesterday he found a glass bead in the linen closet and cried for three hours because it was one of Jess’.”

“This is bad man. He’s not getting better...its even worse because he’s doing normal things, but not recovering. I think this really fucked him up.”

“Yeah. But I just don’t know what to do…”

Nick had cried over the bead because it had come from the headband she worn on their first date after they’d gotten back together...the fact that she left it behind…well it just meant it was just a stupid piece of clothing to her and had no other meaning. But any reaction over them noticing that he’d been so deeply hurt by a bead had been rather overshadowed by his immense guilt because of Schmidt’s feelings for Cece - especially considering that while listening to them, Nick could still taste Cece from when he had eaten her out that morning. 

Nick knew this couldn’t go on. The potential for it to explode in their faces was too great - this thing...the sex...was going to hurt them both. And Schmidt - especially Schmidt. Probably quite badly. And Nick was certain that he couldn’t handle the loss of Jess without his friend there to support him. Because as big a douche as Schmidt could be at times, he was actually being super supportive of Nick - listening to him when he needed it or just sitting quietly when all Nick wanted to do was watch a basketball game or some mindless action movie. Or he was happy to talk about Nick’s courses - a job Jess probably would have been entrusted with - and even got excited about the whole mixology thing. Encouraging Nick to really get into it. 

Namely, Schmidt was being a really stand up guy. Which made the whole Nick is fucking Cece thing even worse. 

However, whenever Nick tried to explain this to Cece, she just dismissed it. “He’s fine - we’re all adults here. And he hasn’t made a move in a long time. This doesn’t include him…this is our thing, Nick. Ours and Jess’”

“How is it Jess’ thing? She’s not here. She has no idea this is happening.”

“One day I hope she does.” 

“God, Cece, what are we doing…”

“We’re fucking, Nick. And I must admit, you’re quite good at it.”

 “Yeah, but we’re fucking in the vain hope that one day Jess will find out and be hurt by all this. It doesn’t make sense.” 

“Does it have to make sense? Or can’t it just feel good.”

“Ok, sure. It feels good…but I’m not sure we’re actually doing anything to her!”

“You might not think so, but we are.”

Nick sighed. “I just want to stop feeling this way. I want to stop missing her.”

“And I hope one day you will...:”

“Do you think you’ll ever stop being mad at her?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Cece… I think we need to stop.”

“Why? I like fucking you. You obviously like fucking me. It makes me not feel for a little while...it makes me not want to fly to Portland and kick her ass.”

“I know this will end badly…”

“Then it ends badly, isn’t that life? It ends badly.”

“Well...it can’t get as bad as I currently feel, I suppose.”

“Right...now, off with the pants. I have a yoga class in an hour.”

\--/--

Naturally, Nick was right. This thing did end badly. Very badly. 

Cece as usual appeared in his bedroom late at night. She was dressed in a tight black skirt and a red halter top thing, in one hand she carried her rather precarious looking high heeled shoes and a handful of condoms in the other. He was almost constantly being surprised that she just always assumed he would never have a condom or that they would need more than one. Nick was sitting in bed, reading for a test on California small business licences later that week. 

He looked up. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. So…take off your pants?”

Nick shrugged and dog eared the page. He started pulling off his shirt and shifting out of his boxer shorts. “We’re asking now?”

 “Just giving you the option.”

Nick just snorted and dropped his boxer shorts on the floor.  

She settled herself on on the edge of the bed, still full dressed. “You look like you need a little encouragement there.”

“I was reading about by-laws, not exactly stimulating stuff.”

“Well, I’m sure I can...motivate you.”

“Why are you talking? We never talk...we usually just get down to business.” 

“I’m in a chatty mood.” Cece smiled and cupped his cheek. 

Nick grunted in response, letting his head fall back as Cece’s hand settled on his cock. “I could tell you about by-laws while we do it…if you’re interested.”

“How about we save that for the pillow talk after?”

“You’ll just fall asleep.”

“Would that be so bad?”

Nick opened his and stared at her. This was new. She was changing the agreement - she was introducing the potential for a sleepover to the mix, which was very dangerous. It complicated things. It took away the whole revenge strategy from what they were doing…unless her vision of what they were doing had changed. And it certainly made things more dangerous with Schmidt - if Nick and Cece spent the night together, they were moving away from fuck buddy territory and into something even more intimate. 

 “Uh…” He gave her his best questioning look. 

 She patted his dick affectionately. “Let’s talk after…Now, just relax!”

Fifteen minutes later, Nick found himself still on his back, watching Cece move above him. He was enjoying the view, despite having his mind wander to think about California state liquor licensing laws...which was probably a good indication that he was not actually as into this whole get back at Jess with sex arrangement as he had led himself believe. Of course, he was also still mulling over the whole ‘I could spend the night’ suggestion that Cece had just made. He kinda wanted to hurry up and get it done so he could find out what was going through her mind. 

But in the meantime he was also quite distracted at having Cece straddling him - which was really really enjoyable. He was grunting happily in response to something Cece had just done with her hips when his bedroom door flew open. 

“Nick...have you seen my…Oh! I’m…Cece!?” Schmidt’s voice suddenly filled Nick’s room. It was an rather unexpected sound - especially since Nick had been really enjoying the noises he and Cece had been making. 

Schmidt’s voice got even louder - not unexpectedly.  ‘What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On!?” 

Nick barely noticed the fact that Cece was no longer actually straddling him. In fact, it took a second for Nick’s brain to catch up to what was happening, but he got there quickly...and then he realized pandemonium had erupted. 

Cece, after having leapt off him, had grabbed a pillow to cover herself and had charged after Schmidt who had disappeared back into the main room. Nick could hear her quietly trying to explain to a very angry Schmidt what he had just witnessed. 

Once Nick realized that he was just lying on the bed, his dick still sheathed in a condom, without anyone to use it with, finally understood what had just happened. Exactly what he feared. They had been discovered. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and followed Cece and Schmidt. 

Schmidt was pacing back and forth in the living room, yelled “I cannot believe this! I cannot believe this!” Meanwhile, Cece - who managed to look completely calm cool and collected while wearing only a pillow - was leaning against the wall, quietly telling him to calm down. 

“Seriously, Schmidt, you’re over reacting.” Her voice had that same gentle register that Nick had come to associate with her nighttime visits. 

“You were fucking Nick! Nick!” 

“Yeah. So I was.”

“How...why….what is going on!”

Nick was watching his best friend have a complete nervous breakdown in front of him. He figured he needed to say something, so he stepped forward. “Look Schmidt, why don’t you just let us explain what’s going…”

He never got to finished his sentence, instead letting it trail off as he became aware of Schmidt’s fist moving in a very direct arch towards his face. Yeah…this part made sense…he totally deserved to get punched. As Schmidt’s fist connected with his face, he actually realized how big of a fuck up he was…and as he crashed to the floor and unconsciousness started overtaking him, he found himself thinking that he wished he could just miss whatever was coming next. 

\--/--

When he woke up, he could see the pre-dawn light starting to break through the loft’s windows. He was still lying on the floor, still wearing just his sweat pants and sporting a very painful head. But someone had put a pillow underneath his head - Cece probably, as it was the pillow she’d been using to cover herself during the brief argument with Schmidt.

Groaning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He noticed that he couldn’t seem to focus on anything - closing his eyes he tried to clear his vision - but the blurriness didn’t go away when he opened his eyes. He tried to shake it off, but it wasn’t going away - in fact the movement just made his head pound even more. He sat on the floor, trying to slowly breathe in and out, hoping it would help to clear his head and eyesight. When nothing happened, he decided to go splash some water on his rather sore face. He unsteadily worked his way into a standing position, unfortunately once he was completely upright,  the room started to spin. Grabbing hold of the wall, he tried to make his brain stop this horrible tilt-a-whirl ride, but his brain ignored him and the room kept spinning. 

He knew he was going to vomit soon.

It was in that second that he first thought that something might actually be wrong.  

“Hello? Anybody around?” His voice sounded weak and shaky.

The loft was empty.

The desire to get to the bathroom was even more intense now. 

He gingerly took a step. He was pretty unsteady on his feet, but by holding onto the wall, he managed to eventually get to the bathroom. He shuffled forward until he grasped hold of the sink.

His reflection was not pretty. 

He had a massive black eye and a split lip. Both his eyes were totally bloodshot. He was incredibly pale and shaking. And on top of that, his chest was starting to feel all tight again. 

Oh, now the room was getting really bright. “Who turned on all these lights?” He mumbled to the empty room.

Suddenly the room pitched forward and backwards...he couldn’t get a breath...he gasped for air. He felt like he was leaning forward at 180 degrees, he felt like he was about to lose his foothold. 

His head started swimming. And his incredibly sore head suddenly exploded in a kaleidoscope of pain - like a million white hot needles were being shoved into his brain all at once. His stomach lurched and churned and he felt that disgusting sensation of bile and vomit rising in his throat. 

“What is happening?!’

His head exploded in pain again, sending his stomach lurching even harder. He knew he couldn’t hold it in anymore and vomit exploded out of him - he was pretty sure that he managed to hit the sink…or himself. The room got even brighter and spun like a nuclear powered top...The last think he actually remembered was the sensation of feeling his legs going out from under him before he even understood that he was falling. 

And then he crashed to the tile floor…slamming his head on the edge of the sink as he went down. 

\--/--

Opening his eyes hurt. He tried to pry them open, but there was a really bright light directly above his head that was sending shockwaves of pain every time he opened his eyes. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, he decided to take stock of the rest of his body - his head ached more than he knew possible, his chest hurt and he still had the distinct taste of stomach acid in his mouth. 

Fuck. 

He groaned. 

A soft voice next to his ear said softly, “Ah, good morning Mr. Miller.” 

“Ugh. Can you turn that light off, please?”

“Oh! Yes. Sorry…” 

He heard a soft click and the light was gone. He opened his eyes. “Thank you.” He was in a hospital bed and a young nurse was standing next to his bed, reading his chart.

“I imagine you’re feeling rather awful today.”

“I’m in the hospital? What happened?”

“Well, you had a rather massive panic attack and were unable to get any air to your lungs, plus the crash to the floor gave you a tiny concussion...you’ve been out cold since you arrived here.” 

Nick wasn’t entirely sure how one could have a tiny concussion - either you had one or you didn’t.

“How...how did I get here?”

“Your friend called an ambulance.”

“Which friend?”

“Sorry...I don’t know.”  

Nick groaned as a new series of painful spikes wracked his brain. 

“Don’t worry.” The nurse reassured him, “you’ll be ok...the doctor should be in shortly to talk to you.” And with that, she was gone. 

\--/--

The doctor - a portly balding Middle Eastern man who introduced himself as Dr. Aziz - informed him that it was not surprising that his body had reacted this way. His blood pressure had been off the charts when he had been brought in and he was clearly exhibiting all the signs of stressed induced cardiac issues. Nick knew he’d been on edge ever since that phone call from Jess, but he didn’t realize he was having this enormous of a reaction. He supposed that the whole situation with Cece was probably what drove him over the edge. 

“Frankly,” Dr. Aziz said in an incredibly stern voice, “I’m surprised this was not more serious - heart attack serious.” He then proceeded to give Nick a good long lecture on losing weight, getting in better shape and eating healthier. 

Nick knew all this already...it was a diatribe he was used to by now - Jess had been trying to convince him of it for months. But lying there in a overly uncomfortable hospital bed, he actually started listening. He might not have much at the moment - no girlfriend, probably no friends, very little money - but that didn’t mean he had a death wish. So, this time he actually took the pro-offered leaflets and started to think about what eating organic would mean. 

Of course, he wasn’t entirely out of the woods…he knew he would have to face the music of what he’d done eventually. He just wished they would all wait for him to get out of the hospital before coming at him.

Unfortunately, he never got his wish. 

Winston was the first - which made sense. But he’d hoped that his oldest friend would at least understand or have some sympathy for him.  

“Hey man.”

“Hey.” Nick smiled weakly. “They said I can go home tomorrow, they’re just keeping an eye on me.”

“Cool.”

 “You’re mad?”

“What do you think?”

“Yeah...I really screwed up.”

“Yeah...look, Nick...Sarah…” Winston rarely spoke about his girlfriend. In fact, Nick had only met her once, when Jess insisted they go on a double date. “...well, we’re gonna move in together. So, I’m gonna be gone.”

“Oh? When?” This was not entirely surprising - after everything that was going on, he’d kinda seen it coming. No one in their right mind would really want to continue living with a guy who was as fucked up as Nick. Plus, Winston deserved to get a happy ending. 

“My stuff is pretty much already gone…I’ll be totally moved out in a month.”

“Winston…”

“You really disappoint me man. Cece? Like dude, Schmidt’s only been in love with her for...well years.” 

“I know...we, we were...uh...getting back at Jess. I lost my head - like completely lost it. I’m so sorry dude.”

“Yeah...that’s real adult. And I’m not the guy you need to be apologizing to.”

“Its really complicated.” 

“No its not. You acted like a deranged and hysteric teenager and ended up hurting a guy that has always had your back. You seriously fucked up.”

“I’m sorry. It made sense at the time.”

“Whatever. Look, dude, I’m only here to tell you that I won’t be around for a while...I think I need to take a break from our whole...dynamic, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Right…” Nick had always just called it a friendship. “Are we still…”

“Friends? Yeah - we’ve been friends forever man. Nothing’s gonna change that…but, this was too much, too crazy. I need a break.”

“I understand.” Although, he didn’t, really.

“Look, man, get your shit together, okay? Just figure out what you need to figure out - do your school thing, get your bar…but fix yourself. We’ll talk in a couple months, ok?”

Nick nodded, numbly. 

It wasn’t long after Winston left, leaving him with a pile of sports magazines, that Cece walked into his room. He was so used to associating her presence with sex that he actually started getting hard at the sight of her. 

“Hey Nick.”

“Hey.”

She sat down on one of the hard visitor chairs, obviously keeping her distance. “Look, what we did...it was stupid and I can’t believe we let it go so far.”

Nick stared at her - these were things he’d been saying for weeks! “I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry too.”

“We never got to have that talk…”

“Doesn’t matter now.”

“Yeah…guess not.”

“Anyways,” she continued, “I’m going to stay away for a while - ok?”

“Yeah, makes sense. God, we fucked up, huh?”

“We did. He’s not talking to me.”

“He hasn’t been by to see me. But, if I can try to convince him to talk to you or see you, I will. I promise.”

“Thanks. Although, I think what we did probably blew any hopes of Schmidt and I out of the water.”

“I’ll still try.”

“Thanks. I, uh, I brought you your text books.” She put a cloth bag down on his bed. “I thought you might want them to study. I know you have some tests coming up.”

“Thank you. That’s…nice.” 

“I should go. I’ll…well, maybe I’ll talk to you soon.” She stood up from the chair and stepped next to the bed, then leaning down she pressed her lips to his forehead. “Bye Nick.”

“Bye, Cece.” He was surprised that he actually felt a pang of sadness as he watched her slip out the door. 

By the time Nick was ready to leave the hospital, he was pretty sure the Schmidt was either not going to speak to him again or was saving the big confrontation for when Nick got home. Then, just when Nick was about to leave hospital - he’d called Mike from the bar to come drive him home, which he was sure would be good and awkward - Schmidt appeared. 

“I’m only here as a courtesy.”

“Uh, ok...look man, can we please talk.”

“No. You know, I was ok with the self pity and the sadness and the barely functioning thing cause I know how much you loved and worshipped Jess...but I can’t be ok with...with...whatever you and Cece were doing.”

“Man, I lost my head…I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care. It was disrespectful to me. You know how I feel. But even worse, it was disrespectful to Jess. Whatever is going on with her - she had her reasons, but nothing was worth you doing that. Look, I know you’re probably expecting me to go all off the handle and be regular Schmidt, but this was too much man...this was too much. This hurt too me too much.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I moved out. My stuff is gone. I’m gone.”

“Schmidt!”

“No, Nick. You need to grow up or at least grow a pair. Or something...but you can’t pull this kind of shit anymore.”

“I...I’m sorry.”

“You’re better than this...but I can’t be around you or be your friend or anything like that right now.” 

“I get it - I’d do the same thing. But please know I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure you are…but…no.” Schmidt just shook his head. He looked so angry. 

Nick didn’t know what to say - he didn’t know what he could say. He just stared down at his hands, twisting them together. After everything he and Schmidt had gone through together as friends and roommates…Nick had betrayed all of that. He’d treated it like none of it mattered. He wanted to cry. 

There was one thing he had to try though. “Schmidt?”

“What?”

“Look, I know I’m in no position to ask you for anything, but you need to do something for me.”

“You’re right…but go on.”

“Blame me.”

“I am!”

 “No…just me. Don’t blame Cece…look…uh…this was my thing, ok? My idea…so just blame me.”

“She says it was her’s.”

“So, ignore that. And just blame me. Hate me for this…but don’t hate her. Not when you, uh, love her as much as you do. Okay? I’m the bad guy. So, please…talk to her. Just don’t give up on her, okay?”

Schmidt looked at him, his face was etched in anger and hurt - a look Nick was really familiar with these days. But slowly, he nodded. “I’ll think about it. I’m going to go now. Good luck, Nick.”

And without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. 

Nick would not see him again. 

****Present Day****

In retrospect, Nick would later realize, the moment when his life actually began changing was not during any of that. Not when Jess had left him or when he was standing lost in the Portland airport. It wasn’t during the sex with Cece, nor when Winston or Schmidt decided to extricate  themselves from Nick’s life. Hell, it wasn’t even when he woke up in the hospital.

It happened much later...after he had come home from the hospital, when he was sitting on his bed, having just posted some Craigslist ads for roommates, and he found himself staring at his textbooks. Because as he stared at those textbooks, he started to realize something - he might not have much in his life - no girlfriend, no friends - but he did have this. He did have his GRAND PLAN FOR SUCCESS and maybe that was enough. 

It would have to be.

He realized that they had all made their decisions - they had all decided to leave him. Sure, he had a big part to play in their leaving...except for Jess, he still didn’t understand his role in that. But they had made big decisions. Well, he could too. 

 Screw them. 

He wanted to own a bar. He was going to own a bar. But he was also going to be successful…he needed to be, and not just for himself but for them too. He needed this whole experience - this whole debacle - to have some kind of meaning. And if he could just etch himself out one tiny iota of success, then maybe it all would be. 

The person who used to tell him he was special enough to be successful wasn’t there to do that anymore - he’d have to do it himself. And he would. He would be successful. He just had to find his market. He just had to find his angle...he just had to find what made him special. 

He would get his bar. He would get his success. 

He had himself. And that was all he needed. Nick Miller was no longer going to be a fuck up. He was no longer going to be the mess that everyone thought he was. No. He was going to be...he was going to be...great.

It was that moment that Nick’s life changed. The moment he picked up his textbooks, logged onto his class’ website and started to really work that he realized that work was fun. Work was good. Work kept the pain away. Work kept the past away. 

And now, three years later, as Nick sat in his office entering obscene numbers into his spreadsheets he felt gratified that the work he had put into himself and his bar was what brought him happiness. The past was the past - it couldn’t be changed - and mistakes had been made, but if he hadn’t made those mistakes, he wouldn’t be where he was now. And as much as Nick wish that he was going to go him to Jess at the end of the day or that he could call Schmidt and make him a drink…he couldn’t.  

So, he left both of them where they were - in the past. 

He had a bar to run. And that was all he needed. 

Picking up a pile of invoices from alcohol distributors, Nick turned back to his spreadsheets - pushing Jess, Cece, Schmidt and Winston out of his mind. Which was where they belonged.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write - I tried to make it as realistic as I could. It helped that I had a little RL experience. I hope you guys don't hate me for going in this direction...but I promise to make the angst worth your while. 
> 
> Cocktail - Hanky Panky (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanky-Panky_cocktail)


	5. Chapter 4 - Old Fashioned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When closure is so desperately needed, sometimes all we have are memories.

When you live in Los Angeles, you inevitably face three rather hard truths…well, in all honestly, that list is probably a lot longer, but may LA residents really see these true as being the really important ones. The first is that you need a car, because you really are fooling yourself if you think you can survive on the city’s practically non-existent transit system. LA is a city of highways and traffic jams and off-ramps…its just the way things are. The second of these truths, which is related to the first, is that you will live with terrible air pollution - it’s a reality, why deny it? The air pollution in LA is bad, everyone knows it, nobody really talks about it…that’s just is the way it is. If you can’t handle it - head out of the city. Head down to Santa Monica or San Diego for a weekend and give your lungs a break…they deserve it! The third truth, although pretty inconsequential compared to the other two, is an irritating one - if you live in LA, you will almost inevitably find yourself on a Saturday morning, or early afternoon, grumpily pushing a grocery cart through either a packed Whole Foods or a packed Trader Joe’s. LA residents flock to these places because they are addicted to healthy eating - the more organic and free trade the better - and these are the stores that have become the bastions of healthy eating in LA. 

And sadly, on this Saturday morning, Nick Miller finds himself pushing a cart through Trader Joe’s, which is filled with other singletons, families - including screaming kids - and the odd couple who have no problem standing in the middle of an aisle publicly demonstrating their devotion to each other. So far, Nick has managed to resist ramming his cart into more than a dozen people out of sheer frustration over being forced to go shopping on a weekend instead of his usual mid-week morning grocery run. But he was starting to get a bit desperate. He had discovered that he couldn’t actually live only off of coffee, snacks from the bar and the occasional organic salad or smoothie from that place near The BarRail. 

Which was why he was navigating his way through Trader Joe’s with his earbuds firmly planted in his ears, blaring PostModern Jukebox. 

 Currently, he was moving through the frozen foods section - his second to last stop - and had grabbed a pile of Joe’s Shitake Mushroom Chickens, Eggplant Parmigiana and a few of organic pizzas - which was what he generally survived on most of the time. He paused briefly, considering the frozen dark cherries - knowing how well they went in the occasional Manhattan - so he grabbed a few bags of them too. Why not? Maybe he’d even treat himself to a more traditional drink before going to work late tonight. 

Peering into the cart, he quickly took stock - his usual assortment of veggies, dairy, bread, and quick meals so he wouldn’t have to cook too much before heading to the bar. All that was left was his secret stash of snack foods. He steered the cart towards the cookies and chips. Once he was stocked up on chocolate covered potato chips, bacon popcorn, pistachios and other snacks, he started towards the check out. 

 He was just starting to congratulate himself on a successful weekend shopping trip - simultaneously calculating how long it would take him to run across the street to the Neospresso store - when a small child ran head first into his cart, knocking Nick off course and nearly into a display of Cookie Butter. He managed to stop the cart before it littered him and the kid with what looked liked a million tubs of the stuff. 

A young blond woman came running up, grabbing the kid, and apologizing to Nick. 

“Oh god! I’m so sorry…he never watches where he’s going!”

 Nick pulled out his earbuds, killing a rather amazing 1920s rendition of Bad Romance, and gave the woman a hesitant smile. “It’s ok. It happens…no harm done.”

“”Still. He should be more careful. I’d feel so bad if he ruined the display or hurt you.”

“Don’t worry. It’s still standing. And, see, not a scratch on me.” He pointed to the himself - as though inviting her to inspect him. 

She giggled - an honest to god giggle - and leaned closer to him. He instinctually had to resist the urge to step away - he hated it when women flirted with him and he could smell the flirt coming from a mile away with this woman. He made sure to keep her kid firm rooted between then. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. 

“Well, maybe if you got hurt by all those falling on you, they’d give you some Cookie Butter for free.”

Instantly, he felt his skin crawl. He hated Cookie Butter almost more than he hated being flirted with. He shook his head. “No. I don’t like the stuff. Never have.”  The first part was completely true - the second half, however, was a total lie. 

She stepped closer to him and leaned in as though they were about to share some kind of secret confession that only the two of them needed to be privy too. This time he did take a step back. 

“Me neither - I find it too sweet. So…” He saw her eyes move over his hands, checking for a ring, and then slide up his body slowly, a look of appreciation and interest in her eyes. “…you here with anyone?”

“Nope.” He figured that short and clipped answers would probably be the way to go. Hopefully they would spell out his disinterest loud and clear.

“Cool. I’m Amber, and this is my son - Charlie.” 

“Hi Amber. Hi Charlie. Well…it was nice to meet you. But I should get going…lots of stuff to do.” He started to put his ear buds back in, but her hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Would you like to exchange numbers?”

He sighed. He hated this part. Why couldn’t they just read his body language and get the message? Why did they always have to force him to spell it out for them. He really needed some kind of neon sign above his head or something that said ‘I Don’t Want to Date You!’ He tried to give her a small smile and then shook his head. “Look, Amber, I’m sorry, but I don’t. I’m sorry, but I’m not dating anyone and I’m not looking to start.”

She looked decidedly taken aback. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So…I’m gonna go pay. Thanks though. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He slipped his earbuds back in and then, giving her a small nod, walked away. 

He hated doing that. Hated it. He felt like a grade A asshole every single time he did it, but it was the truth. He didn’t want her number. Taking her number would just delay the inevitable. Because then he would have to let her down over the phone after she called him a few times and left him message after message - because he already knew he wold have no intention of ever picking up the phone if he saw it was her. 

And sure, there was a small part of him that wanted to say yes to women when they asked. But the moment he started thinking about going on a date with them - going for dinner or drinks, maybe a movie or a walk along the Santa Monica Pier or kissing them while they sat on a park bench somewhere in the Hollywood Hills…it filled him with such insurmountable sadness that he just couldn’t face it. He thought about Amber - she seemed spunky and exciting. She would probably be a fun date - they’d go to that gourmet hot dog place in the Art District and then would take a nice long walk looking at weird art galleries, and probably finish the date at Villain’s Tavern having a drink, or tucked away in some little alcove making out. 

And he knew he would have a good time…at least in theory. In practice, he’d hate it. Every single minute of it. Because this Nick - post Jess Nick - just didn’t date. This Nick Miller was haunted. Always haunted. Even here in Trader Joe’s, he couldn’t escape it. 

Fucking Cookie Butter. 

As Nick got into line at the cashier, he tired so hard to keep the that particular memory at bay, but he fucking knew that his brain was about to send him tumbling down that fucking rabbit hole. That damn memory was nothing…it wasn’t even important - it didn’t include any hidden secrets about why she left. It didn’t include any special message. All it did was remind him of exactly what he lost. All it did was remind him of exactly how happy he’d been. And he hated it. Pulling out his credit card, he sighed as the memory washed over him. 

********************************

***Three and a Half Years ago.***

“Jess…do we need more of this stuff?” Nick was standing next to an enormous display of Cookie Butter watching as his girlfriend slowly and meticulously added tub after tub of the stuff to their cart. 

He normally loved grocery shopping with Jess - she actually made the whole experience enjoyable, and not a chore. Usually they spent the whole time making fun of other people’s purchases, or spontaneously deciding on dinners for the week or just acting like a pair of love sick idiots. They rarely went with a prepared list - at least one he was conscious of anyways, she always seemed to have one mentally prepared even before waking up on grocery day. He was just happy to be along for the ride. 

They had been back together for a year and a half now. And although the evidence of their happy coupledom was everywhere, constantly reminding him that he had somehow won the ultimate relationship lottery, he still was in awe that this had even happened. He still sometimes had to pinch himself that eighteen months ago, she had kissed that morning in the kitchen. And that awe meant that he took any reason to be near her - and if that included spending part of his weekend wandering around Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s or Safeway (only as a last resort), then he was fucking well going to do it!

Except when he was genuinely confused over the stuff she was buying. Like pounds and pounds of Cookie Butter. 

She looked up at him, a huge smile on her face. “Yes, we do. Last time I only bought three jars, and Winston and Schmidt ate it all. So, I’m buying us jars - which we’ll hide - and them jars. Plus, this stuff is so good! I mean how can you not eat a jar a day!?”

“Because I don’t have a diabetic death wish?”

“Oh hush. Its not that bad!”

“It is literally crushed cookies and oil that you spread on bread…its that bad.” Nick tried to put on one of his grumpiest faces, but just one look at her bright and smiling face was enough to make him break out in his own smile. Shaking his head, he reached out and grabbed a jar of the Cookie Butter with Chocolate Swirl. “Fine. We can buy as many as you want, but can we get some with the chocolate?”

“See! I knew you liked it. You know I bet that would be good melted and poured over ice cream.”

“Well now we have to go back and get ice cream, cause I want to try that.”

She laughed and tugged him towards the freezer section. “What do you think, should we be really irresponsible and have sundaes for dinner tonight?”

“And just when I didn’t think I could find another reason to love you, there you go, handing me one.”

“Oh shush! And I love you too! Now come on - I’m thinking either Peanut Butter or Chocolate ice cream…oh! we should get maraschino cherries!”

“Can we get vanilla…you know I like it simple.”

“Ice cream is the only time you like it simple…” Her voice dropped and took on a husky tone, but the moment the words left her mouth, a deep blush spread over her features. He chuckled and put his arm around her waist. 

“It’s okay, Jess…I won’t tell anyone you’re not really the sweet innocent flower everyone thinks you are and that you’re really a dirty girl.” 

She swatted him on the arm in response and then, shaking her head, moved ahead towards the frozen section. He smiled and followed, pushing the cart in front of him. He honestly could not think of a moment in his life when he’d been happier. Although, something was nagging him at the back of his brain. Something she had said about the Cookie Butter of all things. Something about having to hide their’s so it didn’t get eaten by Schmidt or Winston. A slow dawning of realization started in his brain - he realized, as he watched her pull out pints of ice cream and drop them in the cart, that he didn’t want to share their food with the other guys anymore. 

He didn’t want to have to buy extra of everything just so his roommates wouldn’t steal their stuff. 

He didn’t want to wake up in the morning to the sound of Schmidt’s blender or have his awesome Sunday morning sleep ins with Jess be interrupted by Winston standing outside their door yelling for Ferguson. And he didn’t want to have to take a shower in a bathroom that felt like having a shower at the gym - he wanted to shower in a nice bathroom, maybe one that smelled exclusively like her shampoo and his body wash.

He didn’t want to have to share movie date nights on the couch with his male roommates, he just wanted to spend it with her - he didn’t want to have to make sure there was always enough Pad Thai for Schmidt or extra spring rolls for Winston…he just wanted to order what he and Jess wanted. 

As Nick watched Jess pull out a pint of Pumpkin Spice Ice Cream (holy shit, how many containers of ice cream was she buying) he realized that he wanted to live with her. Only her. 

He wanted them to have their own place. And after a year and a half of co-habitation, as a couple, with other people, he figured they deserved it. 

Now, however, he faced the problem of asking her. 

He reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping a sixth pint of ice cream from landing in the cart, she just looked at him and shrugged, then the put the mint chocolate chip ice cream in the cart. 

He puzzled over how to ask as they. As they finally made their way to the check out - stopping briefly for her to get a jar of chocolate sauce - and as they put the bags in the car he could feel his back break out in a cold sweat. He wasn’t very good at initiating big relationship talks. Sure, he’d managed to man up enough to tell her that he wanted to get back together, but that had been purely by accident. (A wonderful wonderful accident). But this was not going to be accidental - this had to be carefully thought out, carefully planned. Because asking this was just as big as asking her to marry him - which was something he’d also been thinking a lot about - so, it had to be perfect.

It wasn’t until they had gotten back to the loft and were putting the groceries away that he realized exactly how he was going to do it. He smiled as he opened a bag of chocolate covered potato chips, holding the bag out to her. Yeah - he knew. He’d need some time and maybe a little hardcore planning to do it right…but he knew. 

He pulled her against him. Grinning. “What do you want to do with the rest of our day?”

“I was thinking a walk or something…unless you had something planned?”

“I know what I want to be doing…”

“Nick. We can’t have sex all the time…and wasn’t morning sex enough for you?”

“Why not? It could help work up an appetite for dinner? And you know, I want you like all the time.”

“So will a walk…and I feel the same…but I’d rather save it for later…have sex, fall asleep all sweaty and satisfied.”

“It’s a deal, but only if I can do that thing you like that I love doing…”

“What a hardship! So, yes. Now…feel like a walk?”

“Sure - can we at least make out in public?”

“You bet your butta we will!”

“My butta?”

“I’m trying a thing…go with it.”

“I’m there…not loving it, but willing to see it through to the focus group stage.”

Her smile was dazzling, he almost felt bowed over by it. “I love you, Nick Miller.”

“I love you. Now, come on! Let’s go make other people jealous of our love.”

—/—

Hours later, as Jess had happily curled herself against his side and was working on her third bowl of ice cream, Nick was slumped into the corner of the couch, desperately wishing he had not had that second sundae. Or at least that he had not put quite as much stuff on it - did he really need eight maraschino cherries…no, he really did not. 

They were half way through Casablanca - which happened to be on TMC - and since it had been his turn to pick the movie, he’d been more than happy to suggest watching it. 

Watching her spoon another huge glob of ice cream into his mouth, his stomach gave another lurch at the thought of more sugar. He groaned audibly. 

Jess reached out and grabbed the remote - pausing the movie - then twisted to face him. “Nick? You ok?”

He nodded and tried to smile, which just turned into a grimace as his stomach protested again. “Yeah…I think I ate too much sugar. My stomach hurts.”

She frowned and reached out to rub his stomach. “Want something for it?”

“Nah. I’m just gonna lie here and groan softly, if that’s ok…unless its bugging you.”

“It’s ok. Just don’t like you feeling so awful!” 

“I’ll live. You can start the movie again.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Well…maybe next time don’t have chocolate sauce, cooke butter and six scoops of ice cream, ok?” She picked up the remote and switched the movie back on. 

As Bogart swaggered around his bar, Nick pressed his face into Jess’ hair. It smelled so fresh and good. She ran her hand up his leg, squeezing his thigh. “You better start feeling better soon, Miller, we have plans for after the movie, remember? Or rather, I have some specific plans for you…”

“Plans huh?”

“Plans…so many plans.”

He reached his arm around her shoulders and tugged her against him, savouring her weight in his arms - his discomfort momentarily forgotten. 

Suddenly, the door to the loft was thrown open and Schmidt was launching himself onto the sofa next to them. “Hello room-lovers. What are we watching? Oh! Bogart - a man after my own stylish heart!”

“Hush, Schmidt, we’re watching the movie.” Jess snapped.

“Is that ice cream!? I’ll be right back!” And then he was leaping back off the couch and running into the kitchen where the sound of banging, the fridge opening and closing and various rattling sounds started up. It was followed by an the occasional exclamation - “OH! Chocolate Sauce! OH! COOKIE BUTTER! This is the best ever!” 

Nick looked down at Jess, sighing. “Well, there went quiet date night huh?”

“Maybe he’ll eat himself into a food coma.”

“Doubtful.” 

And then Schmidt was back, a steady stream of commentary starting up the moment he sat back down on the couch. He talked about everything - Bogart’s clothes, the music, the bang-ability of Ingrid Bergman (which got a stern and prompt JAR! from both Nick and JESS), about how his next birthday party would be Casablanca inspired, about how much he loved Cookie Butter…it seemed endless. The more Schmidt talked, the more Nick envisioned leaning over and smothering him with a pillow - sadly, he knew that Jess and his own painful stomach would probably prevent him from getting very far. 

As the final credits played out, Jess pushed herself off the couch and picked up their bowls and walked into the kitchen. The moment she was off the couch, Schmidt launched himself across the couch, settling his head on Nick’s leg. 

“Schmidt, what are you doing?”

“Lying down.”

“You know I’m getting up, right?”

“Aw, come on - this is comfortable!”

“Jess and I want to go to bed!” 

“Gonna make the windows rattle huh? Break the old bed frame? Dirty some sheets?”

“You’re gross, Schmidt…” Jess said from behind the couch. “I’m going to get ready for bed. Nick, I got you water. Goodnight Schmidt.” She reached out tousled Nick’s hair then walked down the hallway, disappearing into their bedroom.

“Night Jess. So, buddy…wanna watch some late night TV?” Schmidt looked up at Nick, his eyes excited. Nick sometimes got rather creeped out by how much Schmidt could resemble a small puppy.

“No…Schmidt…I want to go to bed with my girlfriend.”

“You suck. We never hang out.”

“We hang out all the time, Schmidt. We spent the whole evening yesterday watching basketball.”

“Fine…but can we do stuff tomorrow?”

Nick sighed. He knew that if he didn’t at least try to include Schmidt he’d never hear the end of it. And he had been slightly neglecting his friend lately. “Okay…How about we do brunch or something - we’ll take Winston and it can just be a roommate thing?”

“No girlfriend?”

“If Jess comes, it’ll just be as a roommate…we won’t get all couple-y.”

“Ok…tomorrow! I love this plan! Oh! We should plan where we want to go!” He jumped back off the couch and ran to get his laptop.

“How about you plan…and I go, um, break a bed frame?”

Schmidt grinned at him, devilishly. “You go, you dog.”

“Thanks.” Nick eased himself off the couch carefully - still painfully aware of how sore his stomach was. He hoped Jess wouldn’t mind being on top tonight… “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, man.”

Schmidt waved at him, already scrolling through Yelp reviews. 

Then, “Hey, Nick.” Schmidt was looking up at him. 

“Yeah man?”

“Sorry if I ruined your date night…”

“Its ok. Its recoverable.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow.”

Nick waved and walked down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

Ten minutes later, he slipped into their bedroom, which was illuminated only by Jess’ small bedside lamp. She was lying under the covers, watching the door way, a sly smile on her face. He smiled back. 

“Hey.” He tried to make his voice sound as seductive as possible.

“Hey yourself. You gonna get under these covers, or what?”

“I’m coming.” He yanked off his shirt and quickly rid himself of his pants, then slid into bed next to her. “So…shall we see if we can recapture the magic of our date? Maybe a Nick Miller special will do the trick.”

“You read my mind.” 

And just as he was closing the distance between them, a very loud explosion erupted from the living room, followed by the opening music to the most recent Mad Max movie, as well as Schmidt’s loud voice yelling “FUCK YEAH! Blow that shit up!” 

Nick groaned and collapsed against Jess, his face burrowing into her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered. “I’ll go tell him to turn it down, okay…then we can get back the mood. Wait, this movie doesn’t even have an explosion at the start…what is he watching?!”

He pushed himself up, bracing himself on his palms, and stared down at her. She had this gorgeous half smile on her face - a mixture of arousal and confusion at what she was overhearing from the main room.  She’d washed all of her makeup off, which was one of his favourite looks - she looked perfect. Her hair was spread across the pillows in a fan and he could see a slight blush that had just started to spread across her collarbone and was rising towards her face…it was the blush she always got when she was turned on.

She looked beautiful. 

Suddenly, he didn’t want to wait…he didn’t want to plan or orchestrate or anything like that, because this was the perfect movement. 

“Jess…”

“Yes?” She quirked an eyebrow, questioningly. 

“Will you move out with me?”

A look of complete surprise came over her face, which quickly morphed into a dazzling smile. “You beat me by minutes…”

“What?”

“I was going to ask the same thing - but I’ve been nervous.”

“Why nervous?”

“Well…you guys have lived together for so long, I don’t want to be Yoko Ono here.”

“You’re as far from Yoko Ono as you can get…except the weird arts and craft stuff, that’s pretty similar.”

“Shut up, Miller.”

“And does that mean I’m John Lennon? Cause I bet I could rock those round glasses. Should I grow my hair long? I bet I’d look awesome.” 

“Nick…focus.”

“I am! I’m focusing on how awesome I’d look.” He grinned at her.

 She hooked a leg over his thigh and flipped them over so he was lying on his back and she was straddling him. She pinned his arms to the bed. “Focus on the question we both kind of just asked each other.”

“I like this position - have your way with me, woman! And you only kinda asked. I was much more direct.”

“Oh…yeah…”

“So…Jess…”

“Yeah, Nick…”

“Uh…was that a yes, then?”

She bit her lip slightly as she ran her fingers through his hair. Then she turned on one of her mega-watt smiles. “Yes - you idiot - yes.” She whispered, as she leaned down, pulling him into a searing kiss. A kiss he returned, eagerly. 

*************************************

***Three and a Half Years Later***

Nick stared at the jar of Cookie Butter in his hand. Why had he gone back and bought a jar? Why was he torturing himself like this? Why couldn’t he just practice what he preached and leave the past where it deserved to stay?

But that memory was so lucid and clear - it was one of his favourites. He loved remembering everything about that day. The look on her face while she pulled out carton after carton of ice cream. The feeling of her hand in his as they walked around Griffith Park. The eager way she doled out scoop after scoop of ice cream as they built their dessert-for-dinner sundaes. The cool and gentle pressure of her hand on his stomach as she rubbed it when it felt like he was going to vomit. The excitement on her face when he asked her to move out with him. The softness and smoothness of her skin as they made love. Even the annoying way Schmidt managed to intrude on their date night was a treasured memory of that night.

 For months after she had left him, he’d held onto that night as a kind of paragon of how great it could be with someone…how great it was with her. That night with Jess had felt like a turning point in their relationship - it felt like they were really growing up as a couple. They were getting away from living with roommates and were becoming something else…they were going to be these adult people who were living together. Building a life together. 

 It had felt like such an important moment.

 But eight months later, all the promise and all the hope he’d felt that night had vanished.  

Nick sighed. He opened a cupboard and tossed the offensive jar inside and then turned back to the other grocery bags. As he pulled out various vegetables and fruits, he realized that he was losing his ability to segregate the past and the present. He had spent the last three years building a shrine to his past - where everything and everyone that belonged there were seen as the authors of his success. He had built them up as the epitome of his…something. Especially Jess…in his head, she was this idealized woman. She had broken his heart, but even so he still clung to her - clung to everything they’d had together. 

But his reliance on her and their past was getting worse and worse. 

He wasn’t keeping the past in the past…he felt like he was living every day surrounded by the past. And it was hurting him. Like today with that girl…Amber. In a normal life, a life where he didn’t see Jessica Day around ever corner and attached to every single object in the world, he would have given her his number. He would have taken her on a date.

But he did none of those things. Because if he had, then it would feel like he was cheating on Jess…cheating on what they had. 

And he knew that was fucking ridiculous! 

Because he and Jess didn’t have anything. They had nothing! Except memories.

Nick slumped against the counter, kicking the fridge door closed. There had been so many opportunities over the years, so many dates he’d passed up. So many…things he’d let pass him by. And he’d always been perfectly okay with that. He had liked his life - he liked just working in his bar…he had liked his solitude and his quiet life. 

But at the same time, Nick wanted - needed - closure. He just had no idea how to get it. He had sworn to himself a long time ago that he would never try to make contact with her - she had asked him to get out of her life and he had no intention of ever trying to re-entering it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t dearly want to understand why. But unless she was going to just pop back up, that would never happen. 

Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder what her reaction would be if he just showed up in Portland…probably similar to how she reacted - or didn’t react - when he went three years ago. But he also sometimes wondered how he would react if she suddenly showed up in LA - would he embrace her, condemn her…or something else? Would his hidden all consuming fear of the sway she still held over him dictate his actions? Or would he be strong enough to resist her?

Nick was shaken out his thoughts by the sound of his phone’s text message alert. He grabbed his phone off of the counter - Charlie. 

**Need help tonight. Two bartenders called in sick. You wanna pull double duty - boss man and bartender?**

He smiled. Now there was a problem he could solve. If he couldn't fix the past, if he couldn’t manage to find the closure that he so badly craved…then at least he could go a make a drink or two as well as making some money. He glanced at the clock - only two in the afternoon - he could go and get an hour’s worth of time in the gym and then maybe grab a nap before heading to the bar for seven. 

Nick walked out of his kitchen, heading towards the bedroom to grab his gym bag. And as he tossed his runners into the bag, suddenly all thoughts of the past and Jess and Cookie Butter evaporated from his brain. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old Fashioned (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Fashioned)
> 
> This is the band I mention - Postmodern Jukebox, who are amazing in every single way. I highly recommend giving them a listen. http://postmodernjukebox.com/


	6. Chapter 5 - Gin Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor starts to fracture Nick's world.

As a general rule, Nick despised Tuesday nights. They were the slowest night of the entire week. Every other night of the week had something going for it: Wednesday was hump day, so people would show up to celebrate having only two more days of work. Thursday was pretty much like Friday - only not - but in this town people still drank like it was. Friday was, well it was Friday - date night, singles night, let your hair down because the work week is over night. Saturday was always the busiest - it was party night - and that could mean literally thousands of dollars in a single night. And Sunday was equally as busy, people refusing to believe that the weekend was over. And it meant that models and celebrities who didn’t have a regular work week to go back to could hit the town without worrying about fans or people noticing them. On Monday nights, people needed something to take the edge off having to be back at work. But Tuesdays…people rarely had a reason to go out on a Tuesday. It was Nick’s firm belief that nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday. 

 And tonight was no exception. Nick was behind his bar watching about a dozen or so customers flow in and out of the place. Charlie had the night off, which he was thankful for - she usually took a quiet Tuesday night as the perfect excuse to berate him about having no social life. Tonight he was especially glad she had the night off because it meant he could quietly play around behind the bar, trying out some new drink ideas or talking to the assistant manager - Bruce - about some social media ideas. Have a quiet, Charlie-less Tuesday night meant Nick was free to enjoy his bar.

 He was absentmindedly playing with a shot glass while totally lost in thought. This place was as far from that shithole he used to at as he could get. There were days when he could barely remember what that place was like - despite having spent most of his adult life working there. But that place did inspire him - mostly in making sure that his bar was absolutely nothing like it. He’d always known that he wanted his bar to be special - something that was worthy of the cocktails he was creating - and for some reason, the concept of a speakeasy just spoke to him. So, when Nick designed and built his bar, he spent a great deal of time visiting other speakeasy bars in the city. In fact, he became totally obsessed with the entire culture of the speakeasy. He wanted to make sure that his bar was completely authentic - positive that the only way he could make his bar as successful as possible was to make it as authentic as he could. 

Basing much of the bar’s design features on photographs of speakeasies from the 1920s and 1930s, Nick was able to build his bar into a brand that would get people’s attention - his brand was sexiness, authenticity and quality. The bar was housed in an old storefront, which according to Nick’s research had once housed a private investigators’ office - a feature Nick happily made use of by doctoring the front of the bar to resemble the waiting area for the PIs office. It was only when customers, after getting past Charlie or the bouncer, passed through a frosted glass door that they would enter the dim and warm interior of the bar. The bar itself could have been ripped right out of prohibition era LA - it was done up in deep warm and luscious reds with exposed brick, concrete and wood finishings. The actual bar was a reclaimed concrete slab, which had once been part of a wall in an old abandoned movie studio from the 1940s and was still decorated with various graffiti images and words. The back wall of the bar was all shiny brass and concrete shelves with hidden lighting to highlight the bottles of alcohol and mixers. The tables throughout the bar were all reclaimed wood, with dark red leather seats or stools; he had also built a number of large circular booths at the far end of the bar - these were also mostly polished reclaimed wood and dark red or black leather. The floor was hardwood, which Nick had spent weeks finishing and buffing and repairing until it gleamed as though it was brand new. All of the light fixtures in the bar large were industrial Edison style lightbulbs, with one large black and copper chandelier hanging directly above the actual bar.  And in one corner of the bar, he had put a few small couches - leather, of course - with a couple of coffee tables, creating a slightly more intimate area for patrons. 

He’d decided to name his bar The BarRail in homage to not only his insistence on having the best quality ingredients possible for his drinks, but also to the history of mixology. The drinks were, of course, the best feature of the bar. He had conceived of and designed every signature cocktail served at The BarRail and he had spent months perfecting each and every one of those drinks. It was a decision that had paid off, because he had become known for his creations. 

He had never really expected to discover a talent like this. He’d always just assumed that he would go to his grave not having contributed anything of worth, but when he read some of the basic concepts of designing cocktails, it was like something just clicked into place. He could envision exactly what he needed to do to make a perfect drink. The moment he thought up a drink idea, his brain just knew the right combination, the right ratio of ingredients and how exactly to make the whole thing come together. He just got it. Charlie had once said that watching him behind the bar was like watching a magician. Once he had a particular ingredient, taste or sensation in mind, nothing could stop him from finding a way to accomplish it. He just understood the chemistry of the cocktail…the art of the cocktail.  

His work had even been nominated - and won - a Spirited Award for best cocktail. Getting that award had probably the proudest moment in his life, especially considering what the drink was. 

His first creation. His baby. The Jess. 

He laughed quietly to himself, like he did every time he thought about The Jess. It was truly ironic that he’d named his most famous drink after the one person least likely to ever taste it.

The drink itself was incredibly simple. A gin sour, that started off incredibly tart, yet finished with an explosion of citrusy sweetness. 

Shaking his head and smiling, Nick couldn’t help but remember how he had come up with it. 

_The loft was empty - his roommates had all gone out for the day, leaving Nick alone to experiment with drink ideas. His small business loan had been approved - the bank gods had smiled down on him - his business plan was written, he had found a possible location for the bar and his friend from his mixology course - Charlie - had agreed to be his bar manager. All he needed now were the drinks. And so, Nick was sitting at the kitchen table with various bottles of booze. He was working on a variation of the gin sour - wanting something to tout as his signature drink. He had a bottle of Hendrick’s gin, a small collection of bitters, vermouth, a pile of lemons, a small bowl of egg whites, and simple syrup sitting in front of him. He was also surrounded by a pile of handwritten notes._

_So far he’d been able to create a perfect gin sour, but it wasn’t right...it wasn’t noteworthy. It was boring. He didn’t just want a gin sour, he wanted something more. Something that would put The BarRail on the map. He needed something unique. Something unexpected. He spun a lemon lazily on the tabletop, staring at it._

_It was the lemon._

_The lemon was boring. It was unoriginal._

_He needed to try something different._

_A surprise of citrus. He loved that - it would sound good on a menu. Yes...that was perfect. Create a drink that would surprise the person drinking it…_

_He jumped off the stool and pulled the fridge open, rooting around. An orange - maybe, but pretty ordinary. A blood orange - yeah, that would work…but it was too trendy._

_Oh...oh yes. Perfect. A grapefruit._

_People rarely used the grapefruit in drinks. And when they did, it tasted so fake and unpleasant. But he could find some way to make sure the freshness of the fruit stayed right at the front of the cocktail._

_It would work perfectly. The sweet tartness would go well with the gin and he could actually omit a lot of the simple syrup...no, wait....not omit. Infuse. He could infuse the syrup with the grapefruit. That way you would get a double punch - the tartness of the fresh juice and the sweetness of the syrup. Yes. Yes...this would work._

  _He measured carefully - putting the ingredients together in a shaker, then straining over an old fashioned glass of ice. He tasted it - yes. It was perfect._

_But what about egg whites...yes or no? A traditional sour had to have it. But would it work?_

_He added some. And tasted._

_Yes...yes it does._

_It was simple. It was easy. But it was brilliant._

_Nick smiled as he sipped the drink. It exploded in his mouth. His pupils dilated and his tongue watered instantly. His head spun slightly._

_Oh yeah._

_It was good._

_A name...he needed a name._

_He took another sip._

_It tasted like those perfect summer days in California, filled with sun and citrus and sweetness. But at the same time, it tasted like the dirty world of of LA nightlife - gin and sin and sex. So much sex._

_But underneath all that, it tasted like something he hadn’t tasted in so long._

_…her_

_It tasted like her. Shockingly so. His brain reeled as he remembered the sweet smell of citrus on her skin from her body wash and the taste of gin in her mouth when he kissed her after a night at the bar._

_This drink was her._

  _It was…_

_The Jess._

Nick grumbled and slammed the shot glass down on the bar. He sometimes hated the drink for all the things that it made him remember. The taste of it could send him rocketing back to moments in the loft, lying in bed with her, burying his nose into her hair or kissing her lazily or the taste and sensation of running his tongue across the expanse of her body. He hated that the drink could do that to him - that it could unlock those secret hidden spaces in his mind. Which was why he rarely drank it - only on those nights he wanted so badly to remember her and her touch. 

But it had become the drink. The one thing that everything else in his professional life was based on. The moment that he had created it, his vision for the rest of the menu started to take shape. And he hated that as much as pain as that drink could cause him, he had no problem creating a drink in homage to her. Sometimes, he tired hard to tell himself that creating and naming that drink was because his plan and success had been because of her, but he knew that was a lie. He still loved her. He still missed her. And the drink reminded him of that. But those were emotions he had buried long ago underneath heaps of resentment and hurt. But he loved having the knowledge that if she knew about the drink and his homage to her, that she would feel excited and proud of what he had created…and maybe just a little tiny pang of guilt.

It still shocked him that after all this time there was that tiny little part of him that still wanted to hurt her. Which was rather surprising, considering all that he’d done to hurt her once before…just after she left. Even though it was doubtful that she would ever know what he’d done - then or now.  

Nick grunted - forcing himself to not think about that again…he didn’t want to go down that road. Think about the drink. The bar. Those were safe topics. 

The Jess was only one drink. Out of it grew a menu of unique cocktails that paved the way for The BarRail to become the success it had. Second only to The Jess was The Heavenly Dip, a champagne and gin based cocktail that was infused with honey and strawberries - it was even listed on the menu as Kerry Washington’s favourite drink. 

Nick had been toying with the idea of making another version of the Heavenly Dip - perhaps something with plum, which he knew paired well with sparking wine. He glanced around the bar - it certainly was a Tuesday night, the place was nearly empty. Perfect time to try and see if this new idea for the Dip would work. 

He pulled out a bottle of champagne and Hendrick’s and a couple of plums that he’d bought that afternoon. He started by constructing the normal base for the Dip, figuring he could build from there. As he was peeling and slicing the plumbs, he noticed two larger men walk up and slide onto a couple of the red leather stools at the far end of the bar. 

The first guy was a tall, beefy fellow that looked about six feet tall. He had short curly brown hair, and a neatly trimmed beard that had spots of grey flecked throughout. He was wearing a brown button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off incredibly impressive forearms, with the rest of the sleeves stretched tight over his obviously powerful biceps - Nick smiled remembering how he’d been complimented on the size of his own arms earlier that day at the gym. The guy’s shirt was pulled tight across his shoulders and chest - he was obviously a powerhouse. He looked like he could easily bench press Nick. His eyes, which Nick couldn’t help but notice looked incredibly kind, were a deep brown that oddly matched his shirt.

The other man was shorter, by maybe six or seven inches. He was blond and wore his hair in a stylish shag with a very full blond beard that made him look slightly older than he probably was, the beard was clearly an effort to hide his still obvious double chin. His body, although also incredibly well maintained, was less muscular. He was heavier set. His stomach more rounded and his chest was the perfect definition of a barrel chest. He wore a short sleeved shirt, which showed off a pair of strong arms - his biceps were pushing the fabric to its limits and it looked like if he flexed just right, the sleeves might rip in two. On his left arm, he had a full tattoo sleeve - the design of which Nick couldn’t really make out. He wore a pair of thick black framed glasses, behind which a pair very intelligent green eyes were moving around quickly, taking in the room. 

As Nick watched, the taller guy leaned down to whisper something to the shorter man. Whatever he said was met with laughter and, to Nick’s surprise, a lingering kiss on the lips. 

Nick smiled and put down the plums. He walked up to them. “Hey guys. Welcome to the BarRail.”

The first guy - the taller one - looked up, a reserved smile on his face. “Hi! This is a great place.”

Nick returned his grin. “Thanks. It’s my baby, I’m Nick - the owner.”

The shorter guy held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Chris. And this is Dave, my husband.”

Dave nodded. “It certainly is impressive.” He started examining a drink menu, but Nick snatched it away, shaking his head. 

“How about a couple of my signature cocktail - The Jess? On the house.”

The two men glanced at each other and for a second Nick thought he detected a silent conversation happening entirely through their eyes. But whatever it was passed so quickly that he barely had time to register it. Although he was certain there had been something. Maybe they thought Nick was coming on to them - which wouldn’t be the first time a gay man thought Nick was hitting on him in the bar. Whatever it was, Nick decided to dismiss it and instead set to work making two cocktails. 

Minutes later, he placed two shimmering pale pink drinks in front of them. “Enjoy!” 

He loved this part. Watching someone try the drink for the first time  Watching those flavours explode on their tongue and the almost physical reaction the person was sure to have. It was like watching someone climax after intensely hot sex. He found it almost arousing, mostly because it was his handiwork causing the reaction. 

It was Chris who picked up his glass first, lifting it in a salut of thanks, and took a sip. Nick watched with a measure of pride as Chris’ pupils suddenly expanded, his eyes growing large and his head almost jolting back in surprise. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

Nick grinned. “Thanks.” He watched as Dave pick up the glass, taking a slightly more reserved drink. What surprised Nick, however, was the lack of a physical response - he simply nodded, as though giving the drink his seal of approval. It was clear that Chris was the more expressive one - the one who was more likely to open up to a bartender after a few drinks; Dave however, would probably get even more reserved with each drink - afraid of too much exposure. Nick hadn’t spent most of his adult life behind a bar without being able to read people. He just wasn’t sure why he was spending so much time working on getting a read of these two. 

“So…” He picked up a towel, giving the bar a quick wipe. “You guys visiting LA?”

It was Dave who replied this time. “Something like that - we’re helping a friend move down here. Although, if she has her way, we just might stay.”

Chris laughed slightly. “Whatever…it has nothing to do with her. It’s this guy who wants to stay. If it were up to him, we’d move here tomorrow.”

“Fuck off.” The larger man grumbled, taking another drink to hide the smirk that had grown on his face. “It’s warm here. Why wouldn’t you want to stay?”

“Where are you guys from?” Nick rarely engaged his customers in any kind of actual conversation, usually allowing his other bartenders to do that - he didn’t really want to know much about the people who frequented the bar, beyond how big their tab was. But Nick found himself interested in what these guys had to say, plus there was almost no one else in the bar. 

Chris nodded his head towards the back of the bar - as though they lived just behind the bar or something. “Oh, just north of here, really.”

Dave shook his head. “Ignore him. He’s geographically ignorant. We’re from the Pacific Northwest - well I’m originally from Ohio, but I moved out west when I met Chris online five years ago.”

Nick nodded. He usually tried to stay completely ignorant of the Pacific Northwest as a rule - thinking about it usually led to thinking about Portland, which made him think about the last time he was in Portland and how much he hated Portland. And that led down the Jessica Day rabbit hole. He gave them a tight smile and nodded at their drinks. “Great. Haven’t spent much time up there myself, but I’ve heard it’s nice. You two ok with drinks for now?” He noticed how high and hard his voice had suddenly become. 

Fuck, he hated that any reference to her - or anything to do with her - could affect him in that way. There was a reason he kept himself so focused on work, because everything else in his life reminded him of her and if he let it, his life would just be one long depressing trip down memory lane. 

“Yeah. These are great, thanks.” Chris smiled, while staring intently at Nick - as though examining his face. A momentary questioning look flickered across his features. 

Nick decided he needed to leave them be - he was starting to feel oddly exposed and examined. And he didn’t like it. 

“Cool. I’m going to check on the servers, if you need anything else just give me a wave.” Nick patted the bar and moved back towards his abandoned Heavenly Dip project, which he realized was now probably flat. He glanced back at the two men sitting at the end of the bar, they both had their head bowed and were talking intently - a conversation that looked incredibly serious. But, from the way Dave kept looking over at Nick, it was pretty clear that either the bar or Nick had a starring role. 

Huh. Maybe Nick had read them right in the first place - maybe they were examining him as a potential third for the night. Maybe they really were going to try and get him to go home with them. Nick smiled - flattered. He had let himself accidentally get trapped in his memories, all because they had mentioned a city that happened to be close to Portland. It was ridiculous. They had nothing to do with Jess - they were just a couple of nice guys that might have taken a liking to Nick. He suddenly found himself laughing…and momentarily wondering if he could actually swing that way…dismissing the thought almost as soon as it entered his brain. 

He had just about decided to stop being such an idiot and go back to talk to them when one of the waitresses appeared with a drink order for a table in the back. And with that, Nick lost himself to the drinks and the bar. 

It was almost two hours later when Nick next glanced towards the far end of the bar, noticing that both Dave and Chris were still perched there, empty glasses in front of them. Nick picked up two, finally completed, Heavenly Dips with plum and moved towards the two men. 

“Here try these.” He put two coupe glasses filled with bubbly golden liquid in them down on the bar. 

Dave picked up one of the glasses. “What is it?”

“I just made it - its a plum version of the Heavenly Dip.” As though they would instinctively know what he was talking about.

Dave sipped it. Once again, he gave no outwardly sign of what he thought beyond a slight nod. “It’s nice. I like it.” 

Nick turned to Chris - hoping for a more expressive response. Chris screwed his face up, shaking his head. “Too sweet…not my thing.”

Nick frowned - he’d have to adjust for sweetness, or make sure that the plums were very tart. Or maybe Dave had a bigger sweet tooth than Chris, which was some how not surprising considering Dave’s complete lack of response to the tartness of The Jess. He immediately started recalculating the recipe, adjusting the amount of plum puree that would go in and maybe upping the amount of dry champagne that he topped it off with. He was so busy reworking the entire drink in his head that he didn’t even notice that Chris was speaking to him until the man tapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry, I got lost in reworking the drink. What did you say?”

Chris smiled, clearly amused at Nick’s obvious headspace. “We’re heading off soon, but I was hoping you could make me another one of those Jesses before we go.”

“Oh sure. You guys staying nearby?” Nick started putting together a drink he knew so well that it was nearly muscle memory by now. 

Nick noticed the slight eyebrow rise on Dave’s face - the man’s eyes narrowed once again, watching Nick. As though he was evaluating him, looking for some hidden quality or answer to a question that only Dave knew and understood. But Dave stayed silent - it was Chris who answered. “Yeah. We got a great deal at The LA downtown - we were going to stay with our friend, but figured it would be too much for her right after moving. She lives in…uh…”

“On Cold Water Canyon.” Dave offered. “The Valley. This is why you’re not allowed to drive or navigate here - we’d be lost every minute of the day.”

Nick laughed. “That’s normal - for newcomers. The valley is lovely, I used to live near there. I live just on the edge of West Hollywood now. Your hotel nice?” Nick had no idea why he was talking to them about their hotel or why he was telling them where he lived - if they were into him in that way, then he was only leading them on. Fuck. He needed to stop this. 

A look of confusion passed over Chris’ face, who glanced at Dave. But Dave was entirely focused on Nick in a way that made Nick distinctly uncomfortable. Dave’s eyes held no lust or desire or any of the signs Nick would normally associate with a sexual come on. Instead, Dave’s eyes were inquisitive and unhappy. “Yes, Nick. The hotel is nice.” He said it in such a familial way, it made the hair on Nick’s arms stand up.

“Uh…” Nick glanced between the two men. Chris, who was also now observing him, had a look of concern on his face. It was growing increasingly obvious that although Nick had no idea who these guys were, they knew a lot about him.  “Am I missing something here?”  

“Probably.” Dave said quietly, a touch of sadness in his voice.

“What the fuck is going on?” 

“What do we owe you for the drinks?” Dave pulled out his wallet. 

“An explanation would be nice. You guys seem to have some kind of…something…and I’m not sure what’s going on. Is it that you want me to go home with you or…”

“No. Nick, we don’t want that.” Chris’ voice was soft and quiet - barely audible over the slight din of the bar. “We want to pay and then we’ll head off. Right, babe?”

Dave nodded. His eyes never leaving Nick’s face. “Right.”

“Like I said before, the drinks are on the house.” Nick was getting more and more panicky - these guys had seemed so friendly and pleasant, but their presence had sent him into a tailspin between remembering Jess, some kind of miscommunication, and then just making him feel deeply uncomfortable and exposed. 

“You sure?” Dave had pulled his Visa out. 

“Yeah. Think of it as a welcome to LA thing.”

“Thanks.” Chris and Dave stood up. They looked at each other - and once again Nick could practically sense the silent conversation happening between then. Then Dave nodded. 

Chris smiled, “Nice meeting you, Nick. We’ll see you again.”  And he turned and walked away, leaving Dave at the bar with Nick. 

Dave was still staring at Nick. “What is it?” Nick snapped. “Why are you staring at me? You’ve been doing that since you came into my bar!”

Dave sighed softly. He opened his wallet and pulled out what looked like a business card. “You’re nothing like what she described.”

“What?” Nick’s voice caught in his throat. The room swam slightly. He wasn’t quite sure what he was hearing. 

“You. You’re not what I was expecting. For one, you dress better than any of the photos she showed us. Also, you’re…more fit. The Nick I’ve seen was kind of a mess.” 

“Wh…who…are you?”

“I’m Dave. Dave Spence-Michaels. Michaels is Chris’ last name - we hyphenated, its weird.” 

“What is this?”

“Okay. I know this is going to be overwhelming, but we’re Jess’ friends, okay. We moved to Portland a few years ago when Chris got a job there. I know her through my work.”

“You…you know Jess?”

“Yes. Nick, I’m sorry if this is freaking you out. But…she’s back. And she wants to see you.” 

**—/—**

Breathe, Miller.

Just breathe. 

This…this was not happening.

This couldn’t be happening. 

Could it?

A strange man - a man and his husband - had been sitting in his bar for close to three hours, drinking his cocktails - and then that strange man had used the name. Her name. A name he tried very hard to keep locked away in a little box where it couldn’t hurt him. But now it was out there. It was in his bar. And it was hurting him. 

Right now, that name was hurting him because it was practically denying him the ability to breathe properly. He felt like he did three years ago, when the panic attacks had started. 

He leaned forward, gripping the bar so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was shaking. He could tell he was shaking - mostly from the way that his forearms were trembling. And he felt light headed - luckily, the room wasn’t spinning or doing that pitching backwards and forwards thing that he remembered from his panic attack episodes three years ago. 

He tried sucking some air into his lungs - but it was as though is body was stuck. He’d managed to achieve some kind of fucking paralysis. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!

He was shaking. Yeah, he was definitely shaking. Shaking out of anger. Out of sadness. Out of hurt. Out of unfathomable rage. How dare he. How dare this fucking stranger come into his bar and throw that name in his face like it was nothing - like he had any right to fuck with him. To fuck with his emotions over her…her…

Her…

She was here. 

How was she here? In the city. In his city.

Fuck. Fuck her! 

Slowly, he realized that someone was talking to him. Someone - a voice, a male voice - was trying to break through the sound of screaming inside his head. 

“Nick…Nick!” That voice was almost shouting at him. But he decided he was going consciously ignore the voice, because otherwise he was going to punch someone. He was going to punch the owner of that fucking voice. And he really wanted to punch the asshole. 

Dave. Fucking Dave…Dave who came into his bar all nice nice and innocent like, and then had thought, ‘hey I know, let’s throw Nick Miller’s fucking world on its axis.’ He fucking hated Dave. 

 “Nick…you need to calm down. You’re going to hyperventilate. Nick…listen to me.” Dave’s voice was insistent…worried.

Listen to you…you asshole. You’re here because of her. She sent you. No, he wasn’t going to calm down. He was angry. He was…he didn’t know what he was, but he was something. 

“Nick! If you can calm down, I can explain things. Please. Shit…I told her this was a bad idea! I told her! Fuck. Nick…please, calm down.”

Well…this was Jessica Day they were talking about…she could sometimes be the queen of bad ideas! She…she…fuck her. She wanted. She needed. She decided…those were all things he was so familiar with. Give Jessica Day exactly what she wanted. Jessica Day decides what’s right and what’s wrong. Jessica Day decides things for him - Nick had spent so much time having his life decided for him by Jessica Day. No! No!

Not this time.

He dragged his eyes from the top of the bar to look at Dave. Dave looked terrified - his face etched in worry and fear. He looked afraid for himself and for Nick. “Nick…? Can you please take a breath for me? I just want you to try - in through the mouth and out through the nose.” 

Nick sucked in some air and let it back out, shakily. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. He did it again, slowly regaining some sense of his usual collected composure. Then, in a voice that sounded rough and torn. “Where…where is she?”

“She’s in LA.”

“She the friend you helped move?”

“Yes.”

“So…the Valley. Cold Water Canyon.”

“Yes.”

“Address…?”

“I don’t think its a good idea to tell you that. Look, Nick I’m sorry…”

“Fuck off. Tell me.”

“She asked me not to. She said you’d be upset - I wasn’t expecting a near full on panic attack though. So she asked me to give you my contact info, you can call me and if you want to see her…I’ll make it happen.”

“Who are you…”

“I’m her friend - like I said, I met her through my work. I agreed to help her…fuck, I told her this was a horrible idea. I told her she needed to come see you herself, but she refused to believe me. Fuck.”

“Why are you here?”

“She asked me to…well scope you out. We argued about that…I thought it was a horrible idea. Which it clearly is! Look, I can explain some things - not everything, that’s up to her - but if you want to hear what I have to say, I’m willing to talk.”

“Fuck you.”

“I deserved that. I’m sorry…”

“I thought you guys were coming on to me!”

“Really…that was never my - our - intention. I’m sorry. Look…I don’t think we should talk now. I think this is too much for you…”

“Why is she back?”

“Ok, this is my card. My cell number is on the back.” Dave apparently was opting to ignore Nick’s question - probably out of fear that Nick was going to nose dive straight into a panic attack again. Dave held out a black and white business card. Nick took it. The paper stock was thick, expensive. It reminded Nick of his own business cards. He read the card: Dave Spence-Michaels. The Oregon Health and Science University. A psychiatrist. 

“You work with her?” Nick looked at the man - what would Jess be doing working at a hospital. Or was this something else…and if the man was a psychiatrist, why would he agree to this obviously terrible plan of surprising Nick like this…

“No. Look…call me. Please. Call me tonight when you’ve calmed down or tomorrow or whatever. But call…and if you want to talk to her, you can. But if you want to tell her to fuck off, I’m ok telling her that too.”

Nick turned over the card, written on the back, in a blocky script, was a phone number. 

Three years. Three years without even a word or sign that she was alive. Three years and a trail of broken friendships that Nick partly blamed on her. Three years of…of hating her, loving her, missing her…but mostly hating her and loving her…and then she was here again. Nick shook his head. He looked back up at Dave - a man who had suddenly become this tangible connection to her - and all of a sudden he wanted this fucker gone. 

“Uh - please get out of my bar?” He wasn’t sure why he phrased it as a question, because he sure as fuck didn’t intend it to be an option. 

“Yeah. I’m gone. Look, I am so sorry for all this. I thought she should do this quite differently. But, give me a call. Even if she doesn’t deserve it, you do - you deserve to have answers.” The man sighed and rubbed his beard roughly, which mussed up the carefully combed facial hair - giving him the appearance of a slightly wild animal. 

“Just go.” Nick pointed toward the door. 

Dave nodded, a sad and slightly pissed off look on his face. Then he turned and walked out.

Nick stood there, silently staring in the direction Dave had just disappeared in. He looked down at the thick business card he was holding, slowing turning it over in his hand. He let it drop to the surface of the bar and stepped away from it - as though it was a poisonous snake that was likely to bite him at any second. 

The handwritten phone number stared up at him. 

He wanted to take it and tear it into a million little pieces and then walk into the back room, dump the pieces into a mental bucket, pour lighting fluid on it and set fire to the fucking thing. Burn it. Destroy it. Because as long as that number existed, she could hurt him. 

She could get to him. 

He picked the card up again, putting it between his two hands, getting ready to rip it. 

 But he hesitated. 

“Nick…?” A voice behind him shook him back to the present. He was still in his bar. He still had work to do. His assistant manager, Bruce, was standing behind him, a look of concern on his face. “You ok, man? It looked like you were arguing that that customer.”

Nick nodded and slipped the business card into the inside pocket of his blazer. “It was nothing. Not worth worrying about. How are we doing?” 

“Good…things are picking up. We might have a celeb coming in…Guillermo Díaz.”

Nick smiled - this was something he could deal with. This was something he liked working with. Making money. “Ok. How big of a table to do we need? Let’s make sure they have a round of drinks on the house when they get here…” Nick’s voice sounded shaky…like he was having a hard time believing the words coming out of his mouth. But he needed to believe them. He needed to own then and understand them and make them happen…he needed his bar right now, more than anything. Because the bar was real - it was tangible and it was safe. Here he was in charge - there were no games of chance when it came to his bar. His bar couldn’t hurt him. 

He glanced at the empty bar stools sitting in front of him - vacated by the two men who had brought chaos back into his life. He wondered briefly what they were doing. Were they standing on the sidewalk outside, possibly on the phone to her. Telling her about his bar. The drink. Him? What would they say about him? Would they describe his panic attack? Would they describe his appearance? Would they say he was happy or sad or lonely…Dave was a psychiatrist, he probably had diagnosed Nick of having something wrong with him. And Nick was sure that Jess would want those details. 

Fuck. 

He had no way to prepare for this - no way to deal with the onslaught of emotions he was feeling. Jess’ return had been something he’d always thought about but had never actually envisioned happening…but now it was here. It was real. Jessica Day was back in his city. And it seemed like she wanted to see him…a cold sweat started to form on the small of his back. 

He shivered involuntarily. 

Quietly, Bruce cleared his throat behind him - knocking Nick out of his thoughts. Right…he had a bar to run. And he had celeb coming in. He needed to focus. 

He turned back to Bruce. “Go set up a table - do the nice big booth in the back.” 

Bruce nodded and hurried off, while Nick turned back to his bar and started preparing drinks - pushing thoughts of Dave, Chris and Jess out of his mind.

He couldn’t think of that now…it was time to make some magic.

—/—

Nick felt like he was running on autopilot. He was doing all the things that he normally did after walking through the door of his condo - walk into the kitchen, put a Nespresso pod in the machine and press the button for an Americano. Walk into the living room, turn the windows transparent so he could watch the sunrise - even though the sunrise was actually a couple hours away. He sorted through his mail - nothing but bills. All of these things were normal - they were the exactly the same steps that he went through every single day. 

But today, since the sunrise was still hours off, he took his coffee and walked down the hallway to the bedroom. He didn’t bother turning on the overhead light - he wasn’t going to be in here long - and stepped into the dark walk-in closet. He shed his blazer - making sure to carefully remove the business card that had been burning a hole in the fabric all night from his inner pocket. Then he shed his pants, shirt, undershirt and socks. He left on his boxer briefs, having decided that since he was going to be wandering around the condo, he should at least save himself some modesty. He was about to walk back out into the living room, when on a whim he detoured into the bathroom. 

He switched on the shower. Pulling off his boxer briefs, he stepped under the scorching spray of water. He loved his shower - it was one of the first indulgences he’d bought himself after moving in. It was one of those rainfall shower heads that made him feel like he was standing in a waterfall of tropically warm water. He closed his eyes and let his hands wander down his body - he ran his palms over his pecs, feeling the impressive muscles underneath his flesh. Then onto his strong and firm stomach. He let his fingers tangle in the body hair covering his chest, stomach and abs. He let his hand wander lower, feeling the coarseness of his pubic hair, then he grasped his cock in a firm grip, giving it a hard tug - enough to make him moan into the water. 

Smiling he let his hand wander back up his body, stopping to stroke his rather impressive biceps - loving the way he could feel the muscles shifting and flexing beneath his hands. 

Over the last three years, he had taken care of his body - besides the bar and his home, he had little else to take care. He was proud of his body, proud of the physique he had built. He loved how his body felt. How strong he was. There were days when he felt like he could take on anything and win - he was strong, he was attractive and he was successful. And in this town, that meant he would always win. 

Nick had changed - he’d changed so much it was nearly unfathomable. He briefly wondered what she would think when she saw him. How would she react to this Nick person who was not the Nick person she left three years ago.

He picked up his his body wash - some organic crap that he’d found at Whole Foods - and started lathering up. He was suddenly desperate to wash away the events of the evening. All he wanted was to forget that those two men had ever walked into his bar, but no matter how much body wash he used, no matter how hard he scrubbed, he could not forget. 

  _“…she’s back. And she wants to see you.”_

He let out an angry frustrated groan and pressed his forehead against the marble wall of the shower. Unwittingly, her face danced across his mind. Jess laughing. Jess talking. Jess smiling. Jess crying. Jess in the throes of passion. Jess climaxing. 

 As that final image floated across his closed eyelids, he let his hand grasp his dick again - pumping furiously. 

The image hung there - like his own personal torture porn - his hand picking up speed. It was only as he felt his own orgasm over take him that he realized that he was crying. As he came against the shower wall, a low strangled sob erupted from his throat. 

She had no right. 

None. No fucking right. 

Three years - after three years to come back into his life. Who the fuck did she think she was?! 

Nick braced himself against the shower wall, frustrated tears running down his face and mixing with the spray of the shower. 

“You left me…you were supposed to stay away.” He slapped his hand against the marble wall - punctuating each word - until his hand stung.

As Nick felt his breathing slowly start to return to normal, he reached out and turned the shower off. He stepped out of the stall, and grabbed one of the huge fluffy towels that hung next to the shower and started rubbing himself dry. 

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked back towards the living room, pausing when he remembered the empty coffee cup and going back to get it. He paused again by his bar cabinet. He placed the used coffee cup on one of the side tables and opened the cabinet. 

When fully opened, the bar was massive - it covered almost the entire wall the cabinet rested against and stood three feet deep. Inside, he had a fantastic collection of alcohol from around the world - all the best names and styles. He had every conceivable style of glass he could get his hands on. Any kind of bitter, or mixer or garnish he could think of. As far as he knew, only the bar at The BarRail rivalled his home bar. He grabbed a lowball glass and a bottle of Grey Goose vodka, then picking up the coffee cup, walked into the kitchen. 

He rinsed out the cup and put it in the drying rack. He pulled out his round ice tray, dropping a couple ice balls into the glass and poured himself a few stiff fingers of vodka. He slammed it back, relishing the deep welcomed burn of the alcohol in this throat. He closed his eyes and felt himself be warmed from the inside out. 

 It felt nourishing. 

 He poured himself a few more fingers, then taking the bottle with him, he walked back into the living room. Standing in his usual spot, perched against the back of the sofa, Nick stared out at the slowly brightening Los Angeles skyline. Only a few lights blazed in windows, probably belonging to bar workers, insomniacs or people who had to get up at this ungodly hour.

He sipped his vodka and stared, unseeing, out at the brightening sky. The sun was starting to spread its tendrils across the city, but this morning Nick barely noticed. His eyes were locked northward towards the San Fernando Valley, where she was. He wondered what she was doing. Was she asleep? Had Dave and Chris gone straight to see her - giving her a detailed report on what they’d found at The BarRail? Was she lying awake thinking about him? Or was she standing at her own window, looking out at the city - her eyes searching for his window?

Jessica Day…was back. 

Why? 

And more importantly, what did she want with him? 

He wanted to leave the past where it was. In the past. He’d lost so much because of her - his friendships, his heart, the ability to…live beyond work. 

And he thought he was happy with that, but he wasn’t so sure now. He thought about the closure he’d always known he needed - always wanted - was this his chance to get it? Was this his chance to finally move on? 

Had she come to finally release him? 

And he wanted that - he knew as much. He wanted to be free to date or smile over things that had nothing to do with booze or money. He wanted it…but at the same time he didn’t. Because as long as he held onto the past he was holding on to her. 

Nick felt torn. 

He liked his routine - he liked being alone. But he wasn’t sure he could sustain that life anymore. But what terrified him even more was the thought that if he saw her, if he let her back into his life, all those emotions that he struggled to keep at bay would surge forward and break down all of his emotional walls.

And he didn’t know if he could survive that. 

Jessica Day was back, but Nick Miller wasn’t sure if he would survive her return.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gin Sour (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sour_(cocktail)#Gin_sour)
> 
> Dave and Chris (mostly) belong to me - they are the main protagonists in a much longer piece of fiction I've been working on, and routinely pop up in my fanfiction - I hope no one minds they decided to join this party.


	7. Chapter 6 - Royal Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't avoid the inevitable.

Avoidance…it was easy. All you had to do was just avoid the thing you didn’t want to deal with. Easiest thing in the world, right? And, in a previous life, Nick had made a career of avoiding things that he didn’t want to deal with. He knew every trick in the book and he’d used them all. And those were habits and tricks that he’d readily fallen back on after hearing that she was back. Since that fucking conversation with Dave…fucking Dave…he’d adopted a policy of avoidance in an effort to protect himself…so far, it was working out. Well, kind of.  

It had been ten days since Nick had found out that Jessica Day was back in town and so far Nick had not done any of the things that he knew he should have be doing. He certainly had not talked to any one about Jess’ return - although the only person he probably would want talk to was Charlie, and he already knew exactly what she would say. She’d tell him to man up and make the call - which would definitely go against his whole avoidance policy.

And he definitely had not gotten in touch with Dave. Making that phone call would mean having to hear whatever explanations the guy had to offer - it would mean having to listen to someone other than Jess try and explain the last three years away. Of course, making that phone call might mean actual real tangible answers to questions that were never far from his thoughts. But he couldn’t make the fucking call. He just wasn’t sure if his inability to do so was because he was scared or because he just didn’t give a fuck. Most likely, the former.

But perhaps the thing he should have been doing most of all is dealing with the fact that Jessica Day was back. Although the knowledge was there - like a giant neon sign incessantly flashing across his subconscious - he just couldn’t begin to process it. He had no idea how to even begin doing that. He had spent so much of the last three years getting used to the fact that she was gone and was never coming back that he had never actually prepared himself for a situation where she might actually be…in his life again. So, how exactly was he supposed to start processing this whole fucking situation?!

Instead of doing any of those things, what he had been doing was throwing himself even more obsessively into his protective bubble of work. His daily routine took on a new fanaticism that anyone would be horrified over. He was pushing himself harder and further than he thought possible - anything to force thoughts of Jessica Day out of his mind. He figured that if he pushed his body to its absolute limits, then he would be too exhausted all day, every day, to face the ramifications of Jess’ return. It was a new form of avoidance - but it was working. Kind of.

Since last Tuesday, he had designed four brand new cocktails - serving as specials for the weekend - and he had started making inroads in his plan to introduce full dinner service at The BarRail. Plus, he’d decided to act as head bartender every night for the past ten days - giving him an excuse to be at the bar from 9 at night until 5 in the morning each night. During the day, when he wasn't completely unconscious from exhaustion, he found himself in the gym - either in a rage induced state on the treadmill or pushing himself as hard as he could in the weight room. Which meant his body was often in pain from the exertion - another excellent way to avoid his current predicament.

He knew that it was pretty fucking obvious to everyone around him that something was wrong, and despite the worried looks that Charlie and Bruce kept sending his way, he was didn’t want help or support or anything like that. What he wanted was to disappear into work and the gym and himself - because otherwise he would have to talk about…her. And he just couldn’t deal with that. But he also knew that there was no way he could keep this rather aggressive form of avoidance up - his body just wasn’t going to be able to maintain this level of abuse for much longer. Especially for a guy with a history of panic attacks and cardiac problems. Even he knew he needed to stop sooner or later. Which was why, at eleven at night on a Friday - one of the bar’s biggest nights of the week - he found himself slumped against a shelf of vodka bottles in the bar’s store room with his eyes closed, moaning quietly because his entire body felt like one giant ball of fiery pain. 

He was exhausted - he knew that. He’d gotten home at five am that morning, fallen into bed, only to get up five hours later to go to the gym where he’d put his body through a two and a half hour gruelling work out that included an hour of cardio, and and an hour and a half of weights. After which he’d come straight to the bar and did accounts for the rest of the day until it was time to go home and change so he could tend bar all night. 

He felt woozy - it was really the best way to describe it…woozy. Like someone had injected him with really strong pain killers, only instead of taking any pain away, they intensified the pain and made him feel like a drunk. His legs ached so badly from the run and and squats; his arms and chest hurt from the bench presses, the dead-lifts and the bicep curls…fuck. He’d been unrelenting. Plus, his head hurt from a lack of sleep and excessive amounts of work and his gut hurt from the amount of coffee that he’d consumed over the past three days. 

And behind it all was the worst pain of all - the mental barrage of knowing she was nearby. That she wanted to see him. That she…that she was there. 

Nick opened his eyes and glanced around the storeroom. He couldn’t actually remember why he’d come in here in the first place. Was he supposed to get more vodka or gin or…or had he come in here for a few moments of peace and quiet. The noise of the bar was starting to get to him - especially those fucking electronic remixes of 50s lounge music that his DJ had insisted on for the evening. Normally he loved the stuff, but tonight it made him want to tear his hair out. 

Although, he figured that just about any kind of music would make him want to hurt someone tonight. 

 Fuck. This wasn’t right! His bar wasn’t supposed to cause him irritation! It wasn’t supposed to stress him out. His bar was his salvation - it was his oasis. He loved being here. He always loved being here. She had done this. It was because of her, that his bar had turned against him, because for the first time since he’d opened it, he didn’t want to be here - he wanted to be at home. In his bed. Asleep. 

He let his head fall back again, causing the bottles of vodka rattle against each other. He took a deep breath and tried to find some inner reserve of strength to get him through the night. Even just a little extra motivation to make him walk back out of the storeroom and go pour cocktails for the rest of the night. 

So far he was coming up with jack shit. Maybe he could just lie down on the floor and take a nap. 

Nick was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear the storeroom door open or notice the tall blonde woman step inside. If he had been aware of her presence, he knew exactly what she was seeing - the slumped figure of her boss and best friend. He looked completely exhausted - as though the very weight of the world was actually perched on his shoulders. 

His face looked haggard and worn, like he hadn’t gone to sleep in days. His eyes were ringed with deep black circles - making him look like he had two rather significant black eyes. Even his clothing - which was normally perfectly pristine whenever he was at the bar - was rumpled and slightly unkempt. His blazer was wrinkled, his shirt untucked and his tie askew. 

And chances were that he looked like he was on the verge of tears - mostly because he was. 

Charlie eyed him with concern. Whatever was going on was bad. Nick Miller didn’t have emotional breakdowns - Nick Miller was the most put together person she had ever met. Had been since he appeared in her advanced mixology class two and a half years ago when he told her he wanted to know everything about making cocktails because he was going to open the best bar in the city. Nick was intensely emotionally reserved - which she knew was because some woman had left him, a story she had never managed to pull out of him. 

Nick Miller did not have emotional moments - at least not any she had ever been privy to. So, whatever was going on, it was bad! It was really bad. 

Suddenly, all she wanted to do was give him a hug. 

Nick, for his part, had no idea he was being watched. He was trying to control the urge to scream or run out of the bar or pick up the phone and call Dave. 

He sighed and started steeling himself to go back out front, until Charlie’s voice knocked him out of his thoughts. 

“You’re going home.”

He opened a single eye, glaring at her. “I’m fine…I just need a few minutes.”

“Yeah. That wasn’t a request or a question. You’re going home. I’m going to put Bruce in charge and then I’m taking you home.”

“I’m not leaving Bruce in charge! I’ll be fine…just give me a few.” Although the idea of going home, even if it meant leaving an inexperienced assistant manager in charge, was really appealing.

“Ok, fine…then we won’t leave him in charge. I’ll call Sarah and she can come take you home.”

“Charlie…I don’t need your girlfriend to babysit me. I’m fine - I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit. You look like hell. You’re clearly about to start crying. You’re exhausted and upset. Something’s wrong and if you won’t tell me what, that’s fine, but you need to go home and take care of yourself!”

“Charlie…please…”

“No. No more Charlie pleases…something’s happened, I have no idea what. But something bad happened. Something bad enough to make you go all crazy psychotic on us. You need to sleep. You need to eat something that’s not…actually I don’t know what you’ve been eating…”

“Mostly coffee and the odd salad from that organic place down the block.”

“So…bean sprouts?”

“Fuck off..”

“Nick…you’re scaring me, ok? I know I give you a hard time about working so much, but I’m also insanely proud of how much you’ve accomplished in the last three years…but this is crazy. This isn’t your usual workaholic self - this is you hurting yourself.”

“Charlie, I’m…”

“If you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to punch you. And you’ve seen me box…I can do some major damage.”

“Sorry.” Nick mumbled. 

“Will you go home?”

Nick turned to look at her. She was framed by the doorway, but he could see the look of concern on her face. He knew she was right. He needed sleep. He needed food that wasn’t just a salad. He nodded. 

“Thank fuck! Ok, I’ll call  you a cab.”

Nick grunted his approval.  

“Just promise me you’ll get some sleep and take the day off tomorrow…”

Nick immediately opened his mouth to object. 

“…I didn’t say you couldn't come into the bar tomorrow night, but during the day…just take the day.”

“Oh…yeah. I can do that.”  Although the prospect of having an entire day to himself, alone with his thoughts, terrified him. Especially because he knew he would spend the entire day thinking about Jess and that phone number. 

“Good. You wanna go out the back?”

“No, I want to get my phone - I left it behind the bar. I’ll leave out the front.”

She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Come on then.”

Nick let himself be led out of the storeroom, suddenly completely at ease with the idea of going home and going to bed…and in the morning, he’d make himself an omelette with toast. And spend the day trying not to think about Jess. Maybe he’d actually watch TV or read some of those issues of Imbibe magazines he had let pile up. Or maybe, he’d just sleep all day. Maybe…just maybe…he could find a way to avoid thinking of Jess or Dave without the gym or work. 

The more Nick thought about this sudden enforced day off, the more he liked the plan. He made a note to buy Charlie a thank you gift - maybe a gift card to that vintage clothing store she loved so much. 

“Hey, Charlie…”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Wow, a thank you from Nick Miller…there is something wrong.”

“Fuck you - just accept the gratitude, bitch.”

“Whatever.” 

Nick could feel something like a smile start to form on his face, which was something that had been quite absent for the past ten days. It was, however, a smile that  was all too fleeting - disappearing the moment he stepped back into the bar and saw a very unwelcome figure standing at the bar. 

Dave Spence-Michaels. 

Fuck. 

He stopped mid-stride, accidentally yanking Charlie backwards. She turned, giving him a questioning look. He shook his head. He watched as Dave slowly regarded him, that same examining look in his eyes - assessing and diagnosing Nick. Nick realized that this was probably how he looked at his patients.

Nick stepped towards him, scowling. 

Dave smiled sadly. “You look like shit.”

“Fuck you. You talk to your patients like that?”

“They like brutal honesty - makes them feel respected.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Trying to make me feel respected.”

“No. I’m telling you that you look like shit.”

“What do you want?”

“You haven’t called.”

Nick picked up his phone and silently ignored the man. He could feel Charlie’s questioning gaze on his back.

“Nick…Chris and I are leaving on Monday.”

“Good.”

Dave sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. Nick could hear him muttering something about the two of them being worse than any of his patients…or something like that. He seemed to be deciding how to exactly pursue this. Then, “I’m not a bad guy, Nick.”

“Then what are you?” Nick was completely aware that his voice sounded defensive. He was also aware that Charlie, his bartenders and a bunch of customers were watching. 

“I’m just trying to help my friend - even though I don’t agree with any of what she’s done. Just talk to me - and if after you’ve heard what I have to say, you want me to tell her to leave you alone, I’ll do it.”

“I want to be left alone.” And if Dave believed that, then Nick was a better actor than he realized. But the look on Dave’s face clearly indicated that Nick had failed in his performance. 

Dave sighed again. “Ok. If that’s what you want…okay…I’ll tell her, but she’s here now. She’s staying - for some fucking reason - and that means you’re going to run the risk of running into her. I’m just offering you the chance to diminish the shit that might go down if you do.”

Nick looked at him, frowning. He tired to do exactly what Dave did - examine the man, assess him. All he saw was a tired looking man, who looked like he really wanted to be anywhere but right where he was. As another wave of exhaustion crashed over him, Nick knew he couldn’t keep this up. He couldn’t keep pushing himself to the absolute limits just because he didn’t want to face what he so desperately wanted. He wanted answers. He needed answers. 

Three years. He’d waited three years…and all he was doing now was delaying the inevitable. And this guy was willing to help him get those answers. If he let this slip by now, he might never get them - or worse, he’d see her at a Whole Foods or at the bank or The Grove or anywhere…and that would only result in an explosive situation. One he probably wouldn’t recover from. 

“Ok.” His voice sounded so tired. 

“Ok?” Dave sounded surprised, his eyebrows arching. 

“Yeah. But not tonight. I can’t…I can’t handle it now. I’m so tired.”

“When?” 

Nick turned and picked up one of The BarRail’s business cards. He scrawled his address on the back. “Here. This is my address. Tomorrow - come by at noon.”

Dave took the card. He glanced at the address. “Ok. I’ll be there - Chris wants to walk along Sunset or something…he can amuse himself.”

“He can come, if he wants.”

“I’ll ask…Nick, I can’t promise to answer all your questions - there are some that she can only answer - but I’ll try my best.”

“Ok.”

Dave smiled and reached out to rub Nick’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” He nodded at Charlie and then slipped back into the crowd, moving towards the exit.

Nick rubbed his face. Was he really going to do this. Was he really going to listen to what Dave - and by proxy, Jess - had to say? He felt a hand on his shoulder - Charlie. She looked like she couldn’t decide between being concerned and pissed off. 

“What the fuck was that about?”

“Jess is back.” Nick’s voice was detached, tired. He found himself slipping towards just not caring anymore. 

“Oh fuck. Are you ok?”

“Do I look ok?”

“Good point. Ok, hold on. I’m telling Bruce we’re leaving…”

“Charlie…”

“He’ll be fine. I’ll keep my phone on…but we’re going back to your place and we’re going to talk. Nick…its time you told me what’s going on. It sounds like you’re going to need some back up tomorrow…and whenever.”

Nick just nodded, realizing that he wasn’t actually going to get to sleep anytime soon. “Fine. Just make sure he remembers to lock the fucking safe this time.”

 —/—

“So, you never heard from any of them again?” Charlie had curled her legs underneath her and was leaning back against the sofa’s armrest. Her hands were resting against her knees, clutching a glass of Royal Lochnagar whiskey - Nick’s favourite in his collection. She looked bewildered.

Nick shook his head. “Heard from Winston once just after the first review of the bar came out, an email congratulating me. Besides that, nothing - at first I kinda expected Schmidt to maybe get in touch, after he cooled down I guess. But after a couple years, I figured that he’d probably just had enough and had written me out of his life. Understandably so.”

“And you really have no idea why she left…”

“I have my suspicions.”

“Another guy?”

“That’s always been my number one theory. And the only one that makes sense.” 

“If its true, its probably the most cowardly way of dealing with it.”

“You mean running away and cutting me out of her life? Yeah, it is…was…is…not sure which tense to use now.”

“This is so fucked up…its like somebody pulled a terrible storyline from some shitty daytime soap opera.” Charlie took a sip from her glass. 

“Sometimes it feel that way.” 

“And this…Dave guy…he’s?”

“Her friend, apparently. He seems nice enough. I don’t think he’s going to fuck me over.”

“But what about her…do you trust her?”

“I don’t know what to think or feel…I’m kind of a mess. I‘ve never been good at talking about my feelings, which is why I’m a total workaholic and obsessed with my bar - I mean if it weren’t for her leaving, I probably wouldn’t have pushed myself to be who I am. But even saying that is fucked up…its just that when it comes to Jess…things are just complicated.”

“Are you going to see her?”

“Once I talk to Dave…we’ll see.”

“I’m just…I can’t believe some of this. I mean…I knew she fucked you over, but it seems like she just decided you didn’t count or something. It all came of the blue and bam - you were like this reject that she could just discard. It’s awful.”

“You don’t need to tell me, Charlie. I lived it.”

“Right…sorry…so…”

“So?”

“You want me here tomorrow?”

“I don’t know…yeah…I do.”

“Ok. I’ll be here at eleven.”

“Bring breakfast?”

“Yeah…I’ll bring food. Ok, you need to go to bed.” Charlie drained the last of her drink and then pushed herself off of the couch. She walked over to where he was sitting on the lounge chair, pressing her lips to his forehead. “It’ll be ok tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts. 

He pushed himself to his feet, groaning deeply at the persistent ache in his muscles, and picked up his and Charlie’s glasses. He walked into the kitchen, dropping them in the sink. He glanced at the microwave clock - already one-thirty in the morning - and decided to forgo washing them. 

He walked down the hallway, turning off lights as he went. In his bedroom, he went through his usual ritual before getting into bed - stripping, hanging up his clothes, brushing his teeth, doing a quick flex in the mirror. The moment he slid between his sheets, his entire body sighed a deep breath of relief.

But even as he lay there - on the verge of sleep - he couldn’t help but let his brain sudden slip back three years to that horrible phone call from Portland. The phone call that broke him. Jessica Day had the power to hurt him - a power she had executed many times over, whether she was cognizant of it or not. Her leaving him. Her refusal to tell him why. All of it - everything that had happened - it had all been because of her power to hurt him. 

And now, she was doing it again. She had already hurt him just by knowing she was back in LA - the idea that he might see her or talk to her - it was going to kill him. He was worried. What exactly was tomorrow going to bring.

Nick opened his exhausted eyes - staring at he ceiling - a bubble of fear started swelling in his chest. 

“Please…Jess…don’t hurt me again.” 

***********************

12:15

Nick was staring at the clock on his PVR. In fact, he had been staring at it for the last hour - ever since Charlie had arrived, carrying a bag of breakfast sandwiches from Egg Slut, which he’d eaten with the look of a man headed to his own execution. Since then, he’d been slowly nursing his coffee while staring at the clock.

The moment it had struck noon, every nerve in Nick’s body immediately went on edge. And now, fifteen minutes after Dave had said he’d be here, Nick was nearly ready to vibrate out of his skin. The asshole was late. Didn’t the asshole realize how big of a deal this was for Nick? Or didn’t the asshole care?

Fuck him. Fuck him and his being late. 

He glowered at the clock. And he was very aware of the way Charlie was watching him - with a look of amusement and worry on her face. He was glad she could find his current predicament so fucking amusing. He cast her a sideways glance, making sure to translate some of his glower towards her. 

“You know…” Her tone was light, almost airy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed like this.”

"What?” He was jolted aware from his staring contest with the PVR. 

“Dressed. Like this. So casual.” 

“Oh.” Nick glanced down at his outfit. He was wearing a long sleeved grey and green plaid button up shirt and his favourite dark wash jeans. The shirt was quite fitted, showing off his impressive pecs and biceps - it was always a winner whenever he wore it out shopping, he got a lot of attention. And the jeans were cut in the exact right way to frame his powerful thighs - the entire outfit had been planned to show off how muscular he’d become. He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt the need to impress anyone, but it felt good to have it on. He hadn’t bothered with shoes or socks - he rarely wore them at home. “I don’t always wear suits.”

“Well, you should dress like this more often - its hot.”

Nick gave her a questioning look. 

“What? I might be gay, but I can still find you hot!”

“Its not that! Its just the idea that you find me hot…its weird, you’re like my sister.”

“So? I have a hot brother. So what?”

“Whatever. And you’ve seen me without a suit - on Sundays when we have pyjama night…I’m sometimes only wearing pyjama bottoms.”

“That’s different. That’s a gimmick. This is…this is nice and casual. It works on you.”

“I’ll think about it.” Nick nodded and turned back to the PVR.

12:25

“Fuck…he’s late.”

Charlie stood up, gathering the garbage from their breakfast together. “You said his husband wanted to do something…maybe they got caught up or whatever. He’ll be here.”

“I don’t believe that. Something’s wrong.”

“Nick…you need to calm down.”

“I’ll get right on that.” He sighed and let his head sink into his hands. “Fuck…” Just as Nick started to push himself off of the sofa, his phone rang - the concierge letting him know he had visitors. 

Five minutes later, there was a knock at his door. He was waiting next to the door. He opened it to find a very tired looking Dave. 

“Hey.” Nick’s tone took on a hint of worry at the sight of the clearly exhausted man.

Dave nodded, offering him a small smile. “Hello, Nick. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Its ok.” He stepped back and let the man in. He watched as Dave took in apartment - his eyes touching on every surface, every piece of decoration…every photo frame. Immediately, Nick felt like he was back under that microscope which Dave seemed to have implanted in his brain.

Dave toed off his shoes and stepped into the living room. “So…there’s been a bit of a change.”

Nick’s stomach dropped. “Oh?”

“She’d like to see you…she came with us.”

“What?” Nick turned to look at the closed door - as though Jess was about to burst through it, perhaps brandishing a flaming sword of emotional pain. 

“She’s waiting at a cafe around the corner, with Chris. I told her that you and I would talk first, and if you did want to see her, I would call. If not, I leave and she won’t bother you.”

“I’m guessing…” Charlie said from the doorway to the kitchen, “the psychologist in you thinks Nick should see her.”

Dave glanced at her - a look of surprise coming over his face, as though he wasn't expecting her to be there with Nick. “No…maybe…I don’t know. Honestly, I was up all night arguing with her about this that I’m too tired to even form an opinion. I’m leaving it up to you, Nick. If you want to talk to her, do it. But if you don’t, if you genuinely don’t want her around anymore…that’s ok too.”

“Why were you arguing?” Nick felt confused - as though he was missing something. 

“Because I’m pissed at her. Because she was…she was selfish three years ago and I’m seeing the impact that had when I look at you…she had no right to do that to you.”

Nick closed his eyes - he felt like he’d spent so much of his time lately with his eyes closed, trying to gain some measure of perspective, which he wasn’t entirely sure he had yet to achieve. But no matter what Dave thought or felt. No matter how many alternatives he was given. He already knew what he was going to do. He was going to see her - that was a foregone conclusion to this whole thing. He already knew he wanted to talk to her - as much as it would hurt. As much as he didn’t want to face that - didn’t want to face the past - he wanted to see her. 

Fuck…and it wasn’t even to do with getting answers. He just wanted to see her. 

Fuck.

He opened his eyes and looked right at Dave. “Why?”

“There’s a lot of whys involved in that question, Nick.”

“Yeah…do you know why she broke up with me?”

“I do. But that’s the one thing that I don’t think its my place to tell you. I can tell you what she told me…about why she left…some of her reasons anyway.”

“Ok…that’s confusing. There’s more than one reason why she left?”

“There’s more than one reason to everything we do…”

“I don’t need philosophy…I just need answers.”

“Ok. She said she wasn’t ready yet…that she didn’t know what she wanted. She knew she loved you…but she didn’t know what her plan was and she needed to get away to figure it out.”

“Did she?”

“What?”

“Figure it out?”

Dave snorted. “Its ignorant to think that we can ever figure out what we want…did I think I was going to be living in rainy fucking Portland, married to a guy who can quote - verbatim - every superhero movie ever made? No. I didn’t. I thought I was going to be married to someone else, living in New York…that was my plan. That was what I wanted. But then that option was taken away from me and I found something else I wanted…something else I wanted more. So…yes and no. Maybe she figured it out. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe the fact that she’s back and doing this whole fucking cloak and dagger bullshit is her way of trying to figure shit out.” 

Nick was taken aback by the harshness of Dave’s tone - the anger evident in his voice. He was pissed at Jess, but Nick wasn’t sure exactly why. 

“Why are you mad at her?”

Because I am. Because she led me to believe that the Nick Miller I was going to meet was going to be this perfectly ok person, who had bounced back from her leaving…and instead I found a guy who changed his entire life…a guy who’s barely living. Who is obviously has not dealt with anything that happened between the two of you. I’m pissed because she…she wasn’t aware of the impact of her actions. And I’m pissed that it took me screaming at her last night for her to realize it.”

“Wow.” 

“What else would you like to know?” Dave sounded so tired, so worn out. 

“Did she love me?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Does she still?”

“I don’t know the answer to that…but she’s here, isn’t she?”

“Will she tell me the truth? Will she give me real answers this time - not some vague half truths.”

“Yes, she will. She owes you that.”

Nick twisted his hands together. The truth. The real truth…something that he had craved so much back then. Something he still craved. He’d always wanted to know why. He’d always wanted to understand…and now, it was being offered to him, possibly unconditionally. 

He moved slowly, walking to stand behind the couch, staring out of the wall of windows. He loved this view - it made him happy. And usually he felt as thought it held so many answers - because the city had given him a lot. It had given him success - it had given him money. But it couldn’t help now. 

Only she could. 

“Call her. I’ll talk to her.” He tried to keep the fear out of his voice. He failed. Behind him he heard Dave grunt in response. Nick wrapped his arms around his stomach as Dave started talking to someone on the phone.

—/—

The first time Nick had laid eyes on Jessica Day had been the day she’d walked into the loft hoping to become his new roommate. And the moment he saw her that day, with that mane of brown hair, those huge expressive eyes and that beautiful smile that seemed to hold all the secrets to life and the universe, he knew he was going to fall in love with her. And for two years he’d managed to keep it together - he found ways to distract himself from tumbling head over heels in love with her. Until that wasn’t a possibility anymore. The moment he had let himself actually feel something for her - the moment he realized that he felt more for her than just friendship - it had all been over. 

From that moment on, all he could think about was how much he wanted to touch her. How much he wanted to kiss her. How much he wanted to…love her. And for some insane reason, she let him do just that. 

Until he wasn’t allowed anymore. 

But that never meant he stopped loving her. No - it just meant he loved her even more. He loved her even harder. And with each stupid boy that came through the loft door professing his love and affection for her, well it just meant that Nick loved her that much harder. Because if he loved her more than any of those douchebags, then maybe he might have a second shot with her one day. 

And then…by some insane miracle…he got that second shot. 

Nick could hear Dave and Charlie talking in the kitchen - they were trying to decide whether it would be a good idea for him and Jess to be left alone. Charlie sounded worried - he didn’t blame her.  He wasn’t even certain if he wanted to talk to Jess alone, what was he going to say. What was he going to do? 

After they got back together, talking to her had always been so easy - she had become his confidant, his sounding board, the person who could help him solve his problems. Talking to Jess had never been hard…right from the moment she let him back into her life as her boyfriend. 

Right from that morning, when he found himself unable to stop talking…unable to stop from saying the one thing he’d tried so hard not to say. But the pay off had been worth it.  

As he listened to Dave and Charlie argue about what was about to happen in his apartment, Nick’s brain took a wander…back five years ago to when something magical happened in a very different apartment. 

*********************

***Five years ago.***

Nick Miller was not a morning person. Everyone knew that. Hell, he was pretty sure that the entire city of Los Angeles knew it, based on how often he had to yell at Winston or Schmidt to leave him alone in the morning. And certainly the proof of Nick’s status as a non-morning person was usually in how horrible he was to his roommates when he did have to get up any earlier than eleven or twelve. 

He was always grouchy and angry and sullen. Unless it was just him and Jess. 

Because Jess got how much a non-morning person he was, despite the morning person-ness that seemed to radiate out of her from the moment she opened her eyes. But she was ok with him being a grouch in the morning. If he happened to be awake when she got up - which was rare - she had no problem just letting him sit in grumpy silence while he ate his Fruit Loops or Frosted Flakes. And sure, she might be humming or singing softly to herself, but she always kept it in check when he was awake too. 

And he loved her for that. 

Well…he loved her for a lot of reasons, mostly because he was just in love with her. 

But loving Jess aside, he really really appreciated how much she let him be a non-morning person. And this morning was no different. He’d woken up early for no explicable reason beyond just suddenly being awake - which was something he really loathed and usually made his morning mood even worse. So, he’d crawled out of bed, made his way into the kitchen, poured himself an obscenely large bowl of Fruit Loops and perched himself on a stool, content to brood about the fact he wasn’t still asleep. 

Jess, however, was flitting around the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil so she could make coffee. She’d bought one of those weird coffee things…a chemex or whatever…and had carefully ground the beans she’d bought just for this inaugural coffee experience, set the filter in the mouth of the thing and was excitedly waiting to have a cup of coffee. Fuck…she looked so adorable when she was this excited about something, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet  and biting her lip in that incredibly sexy way. 

Nick forced his eyes to stay firmly rooted on his cereal bowl.

She held a cup up, waving it in his direction, silently asking if he wanted a some coffee. He gave her a thumbs up and went back to his cereal. 

He was pushing a pink Fruit Loop and a yellow one together, watching them bounce off each other to float aimlessly around the bowl, when a steaming cup of coffee was slid under his nose. She gave his shoulder a squeeze as she hopped onto the stool next to him, opening a copy of the LA Times. 

They sat there silently - him watching the action packed drama unfolding in his cereal bowl and her reading about some new condo development in West Hollywood while humming quietly to herself. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye - her hair was hanging down over her face and she was idly running her fingers through it, slowly working out any of the tangles that had developed overnight. She was wearing her sushi pyjamas, one of his favourites of hers. 

He turned back to his cereal and coffee. He picked up the hot cup, taking a sip - it was surprisingly really good coffee. He smiled - which was insanely rare for him this early in the morning. But then again, he really wasn’t all that surprised as it was a smile that she had caused. She really was the reason he smiled pretty much most of the time.

“I still love you.” The sound of his voice surprised him. Those were the words he was so used to just thinking - which he did all day, everyday - but he’d never dreamed that he would actually say them out loud, much less while they were sitting next to each other, eating breakfast. 

He hears the paper slip out of her hand and slide noiselessly onto the counter. And he certainly doesn’t have to be looking at her to know that she’s now staring at him - heck he’d be staring at her too if she’d said what he just said. 

Of course, if she had been the one to say it, his response would probably involve leaping around the loft, whooping at the top of his lungs. No…wait…that’s what less-mature Nick would do. The new and improved Nick - the one who was trying to be more mature and less like a overgrown teenage boy - would just do all that leaping and whooping only inside his head. 

Suddenly, Nick realized that a rather heavy silence had settled between them. He was still staring down at his cereal and she was staring at him, a look of complete shock on her face. Slowly he turned to look at her, giving her a lopsided smile. 

“Hi.”

“Nick…what?”

“I love you. And before you say anything - let me say this..”

Where was this coming from? Five minutes earlier he’d been totally happy eating his damn Fruit Loops and hating the fact that he was awake at eight-thirty in the morning on a Saturday…and all of a sudden he’s starting the speech. The speech that’s been in his head for more than a year now. 

“Nick…” Her voice is patient, but prodding, wanting him to say whatever he needs to say. God, she was so good at that - always knowing that sometimes he needs a little extra time, a few more seconds, to get his brain together so he can say whatever he needed to say. Lately, she’s been good about letting him get to his point on his own - not rushing him or pushing him. But this time, he knows exactly what he’s going to say. 

“Oh…crap…sorry…Okay, look Jess. I love you. And I’m okay with that. I mean its the kind of love that’s always going to be there. Its not the crazy kind of love that Schmidt has for Cece…because I might be a little nuts, but I’m not obsessive. But it is the kind of love that just stays. Like how Winston is always going to love his cat - not that I’m comparing you to a cat or anything…fuck, bad example…”

He jolts suddenly when he feels her hand wrap itself around his. He looks down at their entwined hands, an incredulous look spreading over his face. He looks back at her, his mouth forming an ‘O”. 

She just nods, encouragingly. 

He sucks in a breath. And tries again. 

“Ok…I love you. Its like how you always knew that Ross and Rachel always loved each other - right from the very start. Its the kind of love that I’m just going to have to get used to. Because I’ll probably still be in love with you whenever you decide to move out and not live with a bunch of boys anymore. I’ll still be in love with you when you meet the man of your dreams. And I’ll still be in love with you when you get married, have kids and run off into the sunset. And I’ll be there cheering you on, because I love you. But no matter what, I’ll never act on it - because we agreed that we shouldn’t - so I’ll stand by and love you while you get whatever happy ending you want to have - whatever happy ending you deserve. And, yeah, I might meet someone who I’m also going love - but I’ll never love her the way I love you. The love I have for you…its the kind of love where I’ll feel fulfilled as long as you're happy, even if its not with me. I’ll be happy and in love with you as long as I get to have moments like this - just sitting here, eating breakfast together, you giving me a cup of coffee and keeping me company and not bugging me cause you know how much I hate mornings. Jess, I love you - a lot - and I dunno, it just felt like it was the right moment to say it. I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out.” 

Nick breathed out a huge breath as he finished talking and let his eyes wander back to his cereal, which was starting to look pretty mushy now. He’s becoming increasingly aware of how quiet she was. Suddenly, all he wanted was to get up and run away - go hide in his bed and forget he ever opened his stupid dumb mouth. 

"Look at me, Nick.”

It feels like he’s moving a mountain when he lifts his eyes to look at her, but he does, because old Nick wouldn’t have said anything - old Nick would never look at her after saying all that - but this is new Nick. And new Nick steps up. 

Oh. 

She’s smiling at him. 

That’s unexpected. 

And its a big smile too. Its one of those Jessica Day humdinger smiles - he forgot how awesome it is to have one of them directed at him. But he’s not sure what the smile means. He smiles back, just in case he’s supposed to. 

“How..how long have you felt like this?” Her voice is quiet and thoughtful. 

“Uh…I don’t think I ever stopped…”

Jess’ face morphs into a look of surprise as the significance of those words sink in. He knows that this whole conversation - everything he’s just admitted to - is a huge gamble. A risk that could end in a million different ways. It could mean the end of a friendship. It could mean losing a roommate - or worse, losing his home. Or…or it could mean…well, that’s something he’s not really able to even comprehend. 

Her eyes drop away from his face as she twists her cup of coffee around in her hand. Yeah…he expected this. He’s about to get a friend-zone speech. And that’s cool - he’ll listen and then maybe go lie down in his room and listen to music or something. 

He starts to pull his hand away from her’s - ready to go dump his cereal in the sink and then slam the rest of the coffee back - anything as long as its busy work and he doesn’t have to think about the fuck up he’s just made. But he can’t pull his hand away, she gripping it too tightly. He tugs it, but she refuses to let it go. 

He’s confused.

“Jess…?” 

She looks back up at him and it feels like his breath has been knocked out of him. 

Her eyes are wet - which only makes her already too big eyes seem even bigger - and she’s smiling. And its not a sad smile…it looks like a happy smile. Or at least a smile that threatening to become another one of those humdingers. Then she does something really unexpected, she lifts her other hand and gently strokes his cheek - instinctively he leans into the touch. 

He probably looks really confused now. 

“I still want a family.” She says quietly. 

“Uh…I know.” Nick has no idea what’s going on now. He’s having a hard time focusing on anything besides the fact that she’s stoking his cheek 

“Do you still want to live on Mars?”

“What?” He jolts slightly - what the fuck is she talking about. 

“When we broke up - you wanted to live on Mars, you wanted your family to live on Mars with you.”

Oh…that. He suddenly laughs. It sounds ridiculous considering how serious this conversation is, of course asking him if he wants to live on Mars is also pretty ridiculous. He shakes his head. “No. I don’t. That was…that was, I don’t even know what that was. But it was something…stupid.”

“It wasn’t…it was what you wanted.”

“Jess…I wanted to go and drive space cars on another planet. It was a fantasy.”

“Do you take back wanting it?”

"No. Because it was a fantasy…its something I think about when I need to escape. Same as I do when I daydream that I’m Batman.”

“I could see that.”

“Hotter than Affleck?”

“Much. Nick - we broke up because we had nothing in common…”

“We also broke up because we are the world’s worst communicators and couldn’t talk to each other about what we want and need…”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re different. Why haven’t I noticed that?”

“I’m mysterious. You don’t know the depths of my mind.”

“Nick…”

“Sorry. I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking…I’m trying to grow up.”

“And did all that thinking lead to anything…”

“Yeah, a lot. Like the fact that I don’t want to be a bartender forever - its not the future I want to give y…give the person I’m with.”

“And what do you want?” She smirked - he hoped she hadn’t picked up on his little misstep.

“Don’t know yet…still thinking on that part.”

She nodded as she let her fingers tangle into his sideburns. 

“Uh…Jess…”

“So, I like this new improved version of you…” She gave his sideburn a sharp tug. “Is this not ok?”

“Yeah… I’m not complaining…but what’s with the face stroking?”

“It’s build up.”

“Uh…to what? Sorry…I’m just a little confused. I don’t know what’s happening.”

She smiled again and then she did something really unexpected. She leaned forward and kissed him.  

Nick felt his breath hitch in surprise. Her hand was still resting against his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his stubble. He sat there, unmoving, for a second until he realized what was happening. He was being kissed. Jess was kissing him and he wasn’t kissing back. 

Fuck that! 

Man up, Miller! 

His hand shot like a bullet to her hip as he started kissing her back. His mouth moved experimentally against hers, as though expecting her to realize what she was doing and to shove him back. Instead, she ran her tongue across the bottom of his lip. 

He whimpered. Yeah…real manly.

He opened his mouth, letting her tongue slide in. The moment their tongues touched, a bolt of something like electricity shot through him. He pushed himself off the stool, tugging her off hers, so he could pull her as close to him as she could get. He wrapped his other arm around her, locking her in place. 

She tasted like coffee and strawberry jam - when the hell did she have strawberry jam?! She smelled like…Jess. God, how he missed that smell. All citrus and flowers and perfume - he felt lightheaded being enveloped by it again. 

Oh god! She was moaning. She was fucking moaning. He forgot how awesome that sounded. 

Was this happening? Or was he actually asleep? Maybe he was really dreaming…oh no, wait…she just cupped his ass…definitely not dreaming. 

But he needed to get some perspective here! He needed to understand what was happening. So, he did the one thing he absolutely, completely, totally did not want to do - he pulled back. 

Her eyes were closed, her face was flushed and a little raw from where his stubbled was rubbing against it. Shit…he instantly felt bad. And her lips were swollen from the kissing. And best of all…she was smiling. 

Holy shit.

“Jess…” He’s totally aware his voice sounds strained and that he’s nearly on the verge of pleading. “…what?”

“I miss my friend…” Her voice is nearly a whisper. He remembers those words - they had said them to each other that day - so long ago now - when they’d broken up. His heart constricts at the sound of them. What did she mean? Was one kiss enough to make her realize that they were always going to be a mistake…? 

“…who is also my boyfriend.”

Nick knows that his face probably looks like a combination between totally confused and stupefied - which Jess would probably tell him looks like one of his many grumpy faces - but that’s just how he feels. Plus her eyes are still closed. 

Hold on…is she saying…oh…she is saying… 

“Are…we…getting back together?” He wants to press his forehead against hers - which was always one of his favourite things, it just felt so intimate. He wants to kiss her again. He also really wants to pick her up and carry her back to his room - or hers, whichever. But he can’t just yet. 

“I love you too, Nick.”

Yeah, there is definite leaping and whooping happening in his head right now!

“And I think we should talk…more…lots of talking. Make sure we’re one hundred percent on the same page this time…and just try not to over think things quite so much. But…I miss you. I miss us. And if we really think we can do it - if we really think we can make us work…I say screw it! I want you in my life as more than just a friend…”

He finishes her sentence for her. “Let’s just try.”

“No. There is no try. Let’s do it.”

He knows he’s about to start crying. Holy crap. This is real. The one thing he’s wanted for…so long… its happening. He’s getting Jess back. He starts replaying the entire morning over in his head - it seems totally incredulous now that all this would happen because she put a cup of coffee in front of him.

Holy fuck! He and Jess were…are…he and Jess again! 

“Nick! Come back to me!”She’s laughing and, at some point in his mental celebration, she’d moved her other hand to cup his face. 

“Huh?! Oh…sorry…I got overwhelmed.”

“I noticed. So…are we going to seal this deal?”

“Yes…oh wait…you mean sex?”

“Or we can clean the bathroom - if that works better for you.”

“No…no…sex is great. Sex is amazing. But what about your coffee…you were so excited about it.”

“Newly re-acquired boyfriend trumps coffee. I’ll make us more later. Now, shut your Nick mouth and kiss me.”

“Aye aye captain.” He grinned at her and pulled her against him, pressing his lips to hers and lifting her up, walking them back towards her bedroom…cause lets face it, her sheets were always way more comfortable.

As he kicks the door to her room closed behind them, he pulls back from kissing her - an amused look on his face. “Wait a sec…did you almost quote Yoda back there?” 

*******

***Present Day***

The sound of his cell phone going off shakes him out of his memories - which was too bad, he always liked remembering the sweaty fun part. The concierge again. He clicks answer. 

“Hey Mr. Miller.”

“Hey Chuck.”

“There are some more people down here - they ok to come up?”

He turned his gaze back out onto the city below him - it looked hot out.

“Mr. Miller…?” 

He could say no. He could tell Chuck to throw them out of the lobby, then he could kick Dave out of his home and he could go back to his life - the way he wanted to. He could make a drink and then go to the bar and serve drinks all night while being the fun, sexy, cool bar owner. And he could never think about Jessica Day again. 

He could do all those things. All he had to say was no… 

“Yeah, Chuck…they’re cool to come up.” 

But when Jessica Day was concerned, ‘no’ was never an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter again - I wanted to get the action moving. 
> 
> The Royal Arrival (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Gilmore#Royal_Arrival)


	8. Chapter 7 - Dark & Stormy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick gets his answers - but they're nothing like what he expected.

He hears the front door open and close - clicking shut with its usual whoosh of air - a noise that he’s gotten so used to over the past two years that he barely hears it anymore. Until now - now that noise is as loud as someone banging a gong announcing the arrival of some royal dignitary or guest of honour. Which, if he’s being truthful, is exactly what this is. Jessica is a dignitary - she’s royalty to him. He’s always felt that way - ever since the day he’d helped rescue her stuff from her ex’s place and he had to wear some stupid hat just to help her save face. That moment - standing on that dickwad’s front lawn - was one of the first moments he knew he was in love with her. Then, the more he got to know her, the more he fell in love with her and the more he realized that she was someone who needed to be worshipped and adored. Which he wanted to do so fucking badly. 

And then, he got to just that…plus, he got the added bonus of loving her too. And all that meant that she was his and he was hers - and he had never felt so…fulfilled. Until he wasn’t allowed to do those things anymore and he had to find that sense of fulfillment elsewhere…which he never really had. The bar…well it fulfilled him, but in an entirely different way.  

But now…now she’s back his life again. Only, he has no idea what that means. Except, that he’s terrified. Nick hadn’t expected that. He’d expected anger over her leaving him, or shame for sleeping with Cece or even apathy towards her and whatever her reasons were. But not fear. He was afraid of her. Afraid of how he was going to react, afraid of what it would feel like to see her. And he was definitely afraid that she would take one look at him and know that he was still in love with her. 

Because there was no denying it anymore - he still was. How he’d reacted to finding out she was back in LA proved it. Because a person who had no romantic feelings wouldn’t have behaved like he did - avoidance and denial. He could tell himself that he’d acted like that to avoid getting hurt again, and yeah that was part of it all, but it was also about not wanting to admit how much he still cared. But all those feelings for her were buried so deeply underneath mountains of hurt - which he’d never really processed or dealt with. And he was delusional if he thought he knew how to even start processing his feelings for her. 

And he certainly couldn’t process anything in the next five minutes before they were alone together…in his home.

Fuck! 

He was fucked. 

And suddenly, Nick let out a small gasp. Oh…shit…she was here. In his home. Seeing his things…maybe touching his things. And that certainly meant, she would see all the photos of her - oh fuck!

The photos. 

There were so many photos of her! Photos of their life together…before Portland. Photos of them at the beach. On the roof of the loft. On stupid weekend road trips. At the Santa Monica Peir. All of those photos - and memories - were so precious to him that it had just made sense for him to put them in his home. And he’d always been one hundred percent certain that she would never see them…because he’d never actually anticipated this happening. He’d never even remotely thought she would be here…in his home…

Shit. 

She was going to freak out. Anyone, walking into the home of their ex-boyfriend three years after they broke up and saw the crazy obsessive shrine their ex had created, would freak out. Oh fuck…she was either going to think he was completely crazy or she was going to realize how much he still cared for her. He wasn’t sure which was worse. 

He briefly wondered if it would be even worse to run start running around the room putting the photos away. Right…cause that doesn’t scream ‘crazy person’ at all. He’d have to just let them stay there…let her see them. If she freaked out and ran away, it might actually solve his problem, right?

He could hear soft voices behind him. He still hadn’t turned around, instead he opted to continue staring out the window, hoping that by keeping his back to the rest of the condo he could pretend he was totally ignorant of her presence until he was finally forced to acknowledge her. 

He was being a coward. But then again, he’d had three years to work up the magnitude of this moment in his head - three years to let the hurt and the fear and the sadness over what Jess had done to him to build and grow and fester. So, he figured he was allowed a little cowardice. Plus, he was completely freaking out…so standing and staring out the window like some reborn Howard Hughes was probably his best best at the moment. 

Charlie appeared next to him, giving him her best reassuring smile. 

“Hey boss.”

“Boss? When the fuck do you ever call me boss?”

“Since now. You want me to stay?”

Part of him did. Part of him wanted very badly to have her stay - have her deal with this for him. And he realized that she would. She would talk to Jess for him - she would berate her and yell at her and probably throw things for him if he wanted her too. She would try and make this really awkward and awful moment a little less awful and awkward. He looked at her. How had he not realized how good of a friend she was until right this moment?

But he couldn’t ask that of her. No…this was his battle. Fuck…he didn’t want to think of it as a battle. He hated that. Hated it so much. But it was a battle - it was a battle between him and Jess, it was a battle between his love for Jess and his anger at Jess. And it was a battle between the Nick he’d been three years ago - who would have done anything for Jess - and the Nick he was now - who was so lost in his lonely, workaholic life.

But he couldn’t let anyone else fight this battle for him. 

He shook his head. “No. Go. I’m ok. You going to the bar?” He needed to latch on to his safety net - his security blanket. If he focused on the bar, then this moment wasn’t as big - because the bar was bigger. The bar was more important.

“No, unlike you, I have a life outside the fucking bar, Nick.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Fine…are you going later?”

“Its Saturday! Of course I am - what do you need?”

Instantly, he runs through a mental check list in his head. Saturday, it would be a big night - there was a lot to consider and make sure was ready for the night. “Check last night’s receipts, make sure Bruce didn’t fuck up. Do a check of the bitters - I thought the vanilla was getting low. And see if we have any VIPs tonight…the usual.”

“Done.” She reached out and rubbed his arm and leaned in, her voice dropping. “Just stay calm and you’ll be ok…and if you need to kick her out, do it.” 

He nodded and smiled at her - trying to give her his most confident smile, he was pretty sure he failed. “Thanks…and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Nick…?” Her eyes narrowed. She clearly didn’t want him to not come in, she wanted him to…what exactly? Stay at home and ruminate about this afternoon. Fuck that. 

“I’ll see you tonight…Charlie, I’ll need to work later…because otherwise I’ll sit here and brood. So, I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

She nodded, a slight frown on her face. “Ok. See you tonight. Dave and Chris are going too…but I think they’re staying nearby. Good luck, boss.”

He grunted a response as she turned and walked away. He heard another hushed conversation, then the door opening and closing again. 

And he knew he was alone. 

With her. 

His stomach instantly turned into a bundle of knots. He suddenly was not entirely sure he could do this…he wasn’t sure he could actually face her. 

But he knew he should turn around. He really really should turn around. Just do it. Turn around. Face her. Look at her. 

Fuck! His stomach was churning. Maybe he could have this entire conversation with his back to her, because he knew that the moment he looked at her - he was going to lose it.  

He heard her cough softly. 

She was probably just as nervous as he was. Heck, she was probably more nervous - she had every reason to be. 

He closed his eyes again. He needed to turn around because he was about a few seconds away from looking like a crazy eccentric person who stared broodily out of windows - way too much like Howard Hughes. 

He sucked in a huge breath…and turned around. 

Oh. 

God.

She was standing in the middle of his living room, watching him with those big beautiful eyes. 

She’d cut her hair. It wasn’t as long as it had been three years ago, it was still long, but now it rested just slightly below her shoulders. And she had given herself some highlights - there were soft muted streaks of red running through her hair hair. And her face…jesus. Her face was exactly the way he remembered it - there wasn’t a single line or wrinkle. It was just as open and generous as it had ever been. She had very little makeup on - just a touch of eyeshadow, a tinge of blush and some pale pink lipstick. 

She was wearing a knee length red dress, with a skirt that flared out by the knees - it reminded him so much of a million other dresses that she’d worn over the years. It was vintage - he knew that much - and had a trim of black lace around the hem and bodice of the skirt. The bodice was cut in such a way as to extenuate her cleavage. She looked amazing in it. 

God, she looked good.

He knew he was staring and he didn’t care. He’s waited a long time to look at her again, and he was damn well going to look. But he could tell she was starting to grow uncomfortable under his gaze.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth - biting down on the flesh - a gesture so familiar to him that it seemed like he had last seen her do it last only yesterday, not three years ago. It was a gesture that he sometimes still thought about - fantasized about - it was something that was so purely Jess. 

And just like that…watching her nibble her lip…suddenly, this moment was real. It was really happening. She was really here. 

He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he been holding in. Followed immediately by a strangled sob. He sucked in another breath - it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

His hand shot up to his mouth, rubbing his face - pulling down on the goatee, the coarse hair scraping against his palm. He could feel tears burning in his eyes, he blinked frantically to clear them away. He pulled his hand away from his face, opening his mouth to try and say something. He managed to open and close his mouth a few times…but nothing was coming out. And he really wanted to sit down, but he was afraid to move as he wasn’t entirely sure that he could.

The silence in the room seemed to stretch on for what felt like hours - as though they were locked in some kind of awkward staring contest. She shifted her weight between her feet, clearly uncomfortable. Finally, the silence became too much - too overpowering - and she broke the stalemate. Her voice slammed into his brain - sounding too loud in the nearly empty room. The sound of it practically knocked him backwards. 

“Hi Nick.”

That voice. He had missed it so much. 

He savoured the sound of it. The feeling of it in his brain. 

He knew he needed to try speaking again. He opened his mouth…

“You’re here.” His voice sounded exactly like he’d expected it too - raspy and overwrought.

She just nodded. 

He had no idea what to say next - no idea where to take this conversation. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to ask? He knew he wanted answers - he wanted all the answers to his questions - but he just didn’t know how to start. He glanced at the couch - would she want to sit down? Did he want to sit down? 

Should he offer her something to drink?

Drinks…he was good at that. That was something he could handle. 

Uh…do you want something to drink? I have coffee - its not fancy Portland coffee, but its ok. Or water. Or if you want something stronger…I have a lot of booze.”

She smiled, seemingly relieved at having a normal, reasonable topic to grasp onto. “Oh. Well, I’ve had a lot of coffee already…Chris kept buying them…but I wouldn’t mind some water.”

“Sure. One water, coming up. Uh…have a seat?” He practically ran into the kitchen - he probably looked crazed. He switched on the tap, then realizing he was about to give Jessica Day tap water, switched it off. He opened his fridge and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water, some ice from the freezer, and one of his larger glasses. He also grabbed a lemon, expertly slicing a wedge, and dropping it in the glass with ice and the water.  He watched the bubbles attach to the glass for a moment. 

This was actually happening. 

When he walked back into the living room, she was sitting on the sofa - looking at the only bookcase he kept in the living room. It had a few artful-style books on bars and bar-tending on it, plus a bunch of photographs. She pushed her hair behind her ear, giving him a perfect view of her profile. He had to bite his lip to keep from groaning at the sight.

He grabbed a coaster from the bottom shelf of the coffee table and put the glass in front of her. “Here. It’s sparking and I threw some lemon in…hope that’s okay.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to go to any trouble.” She gave him a small smile. 

“Its just water, Jess…”

She nods. 

He sat down at the far end of the sofa, turning to face her and running his incredibly sweaty palms along his thighs. He knew the movement was probably forcing his biceps to flex slightly, which was probably making his shoulders and pecs flex slightly - not that he was doing that on purpose or anything. But he could feel her watching him. 

She took a small sip of water, her eyes moving over his body. He wondered what she thought of him. Was she surprised or saddened or curious. Had she expected old Nick - the Nick, whose belly she always like poking in bed or the Nick who always just felt average, not the man who could spend hours in the gym everyday. 

He wanted to say something - say anything - but every single thing he could think of to say, sounded idiotic or stupid. He considered asking her about how she liked being back in LA - but where would small talk even get them. Or he could just come out and ask her about what happened three years ago…but even that felt stupid. Wouldn’t it be better for him to warm up to that? Fuck…he was so nervous. For a second, he wished that this wasn’t even happening. That he could just…not be here. 

“So…” Her voice was so small and hesitant.

He looked back up at her and nodded. But he still couldn’t think of a thing to say. Eventually, after a long moment, his eyes fell to the floor in front of him.

“Nick…?” 

He lifted his gaze to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She looked surprised, clearly not expecting him to start apologizing. “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m so nervous. Jess…three  years…there’s so much I want to say. And know…but I’m…” Nick sighed and trailed off. Apparently, his brain decided to forgo small talk and just get straight to the point. 

“I know, Nick. I know…and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“You hurt me so much.” His voice is so soft that he’s surprised that she even heard him. 

“I know. God, I am so sorry…I wish…I wish a million things, but most of all I wish I had never gotten on that plane.”

He’s surprised at that - because he has some very clear memories of practically begging her not to get on the plane, or to at least let him come with her. So, after all this time to hear her say one of the things that he’d always known - that her leaving was a mistake - was…surprising? Reassuring? Enlightening? He wants to scream ‘I told you so!’ at the top of his lungs. He wants to go stand on his balcony and scream out to the city below. Instead, he just looks at her and asks the biggest of all: “Why?”

“What?” She almost looks as if she doesn’t understand the question. And, for a second, he feels a surge of anger flow through his body. 

He’s sure his anger is evident in his voice. “Why, Jess. Why…why did you do it. Why did you leave? Why did you…why did you end us?”

“Its so complicated, Nick…” She averts her gaze, her eyes dropping to the glass she’s clutching in her hands. 

“That’s another non-answer!” Nick’s anger floods his body. This is just like three years ago all over again! With the vague explanations and non-reasons. Why the fuck can’t she just give him a straight answer!

“You’re right…I’m sorry. This is hard for me too, Nick.”

“Fuck, Jess…” He pushed himself up off the couch, walking to his bar cabinet, opening it. He runs his hands slowly across the bottles - grabbing his Macallan single malt and pouring himself a couple fingers. He lets himself savour the burning of the whiskey - letting the alcohol momentarily fortify him. Then, turning back to face her, he braced himself against the bar, looking at her over the rim of his glass. “You have no idea, do you?” He practically spat the words out. 

He brought the glass to his lips, then scowling he slammed it back onto the bar - making the bottles and glasses rattle. He noticed that she shook together slightly. 

“Nick…please…”

“What?” He was so angry. 

“Can we try to avoid the yelling and screaming?”

“That wasn’t yelling…you’ll know when the yelling starts.”

Jess sighed and stared down at the glass she was clutching between her hands. He watched as she closed her eyes - it looked like she was on the verge of tears. 

“Jess…I’m sorry…I’m trying here, but you have to understand how hard this is for me.” He noticed that he was starting to shake - he really needed to calm down or he might be facing another panic attack or something. He tried to even his breathing - doing some of those irritating breathing exercises his doctor had given him three years ago. 

“I know. I’m trying too, but I’m scared.” Her voice sounded trembly. 

“Of what?” He asked in-between deep breaths. 

“You.”

His breathing exercises stopped - he looked at her, surprise written all over his face. “You don’t have to be scared of me!”

“Yes I do. I hurt you - god, the fact that you’re even sitting here talking to me…its amazing.”

“I just want to understand, Jess…just talk to me. And I’m still amazed at the fact you’re here. And I’m scared of you too…for a lot of reasons…”

“Oh Nick…”

“Let’s be scared and amazed together - and try to talk.” Well…now he only sounds completely corny and stupid. Pick a tone, Nick…pick a tone!

She looks startled for a moment - he realizes that so far this entire conversation had been punctuated by looks of confusion, shock and surprise. She shakes her head, her hair moving heavily with the motion. 

“Nick…you’re so…you’ve changed.”

“You have no idea.”

“The Nick I know and remember - he would have been ranting and raving and yelling and probably sulking…this Nick, with the talking and the calmness…its weird.”

“I guess…well, I I guess I grew up. That Nick…the old Nick…he hurt a lot of people, he needed to go away.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Jess…can we not talk about me right now? Please…”

“Of course…” She continues to look puzzled for a moment, then: “What don’t I have any idea about…” She tilts her head slightly as she asks this, and it makes his heart clench even more than it already is. 

“Huh?”

“You said I have no idea…I want to know what about.”

“Oh…right…how much damage you did.”

The silence returns. It fills the room again. Nick picks up his glass and sips the amber liquid, while Jess stares into her glass, a sad and reserved look on her face. Nick feels as though this conversation has already had about a dozen starts and stops, but he doesn’t know how to make it get going without saying something that’ll probably upset her. But, he needs to do it…if he’s going to get those answers that he wants so badly. 

“Jess…you didn’t just hurt me, you ruined me. I…I…it felt like I’d lost everything.”

Her eyes snap up to lock onto his. She looks heartbroken and suddenly Nick wishes he could just fast forward past all this. He wants to just skip ahead to the point where they’re hugging and forgiving each other - if that’s even going to happen. 

“I…I’m so sorry.” She bites her bottom lip again.

“Okay. Thank you. But…I need to know why.”

Then let me…explain it all. I want to try…and make things better. I’m here to apologize.”

Some things can’t be fixed.” He hates how reserved and firm his voice sounds

The tears that have been sitting in her eyes finally start to fall at that. She reaches up to wipe them away - slightly smearing her eyeshadow. “God…”

“Why did you come back - really?” He feels as though they’re working backwards - starting at the end of everything, when the real questions that he needs answers too exist at the start of it all. 

“What I did to you…the way I acted…it was awful. And I’ve lived with that everyday since…I needed to come back and try to make things right. Even if I can’t - even if you throw me out of here after this - I need to try. I’m so sorry…and I want to try and make you not hurt so much.”

“Okay - that’s an honest answer..” 

"I’m not going to lie to you. I promise.” 

Nick already knows the next question before he opens his mouth. He biggest question - the one he’s so scared of asking, because a lot hinges on it. “Was there another guy? Did you leave me for someone else?” 

“What?!” She seems to sit up a bit straighter, a shocked look on her face.

“Jess…is that a totally unreasonable question? All you left me with was a weird letter telling me you needed to figure out what you wanted…and that’s it…pretty vague, right? To me, it sounded like you were dumping me for another guy. I’ve had three years of no answers - I kinda built up the whole thing in my head, and that…well it was the only reasonable answer I could give myself. It was at least a reason I could latch onto. And, by the way, if it is why, you dumped me for him in the absolute worst way possible.”

Jess puts her glass on the coffee table and pushes herself up, walking towards him so they’re standing practically toe to toe. She’s shaking her head, violently. “No! Nick…no. Absolutely not. I did not leave you for someone else. I swear.”

“Oh…ok” Nick suddenly found himself completely unable to look her in the eye. He wants to be overjoyed that his biggest fear wasn’t true. He wants to feel relieved - but somehow this just makes it worse. Because now he has no idea why. Now whatever the real reason is has to be that much worse…that much more painful. Plus, the fact there was never another guy means that the entire justification for his little affair with Cece had just gone to shit. Now he was just the ex-boyfriend who had slept with his ex-girlfriend’s best friend. It made him feel instantly guilty. 

“What? Nick, what’s wrong?”

“Um…we’ll get to it, ok? There’s a lot to talk about. I have stuff to tell you too.”

“Ok…” She looks slightly confused, hesitant. “But I promise you, I promise - I swear to whatever you want me to - I did not leave you for someone else. I would have told you. I would have been upfront about that. It was…all about me and what I was…dealing with.”

He forced himself to look at her. Her unwavering gaze, which seemed to bore into him, was enough to make him realize that she was telling the truth. He nodded. “Ok. I believe you. Thank god…fuck…”

He wants to touch her. She’s so close now. Less than an arm’s length away. And all he has to do is put out his hand and he’d be stroking her forearm. His hand is shaking, twitching. But she seemed to realize what he’s thinking and steps back, giving him a small smile. 

“Nick…could we sit down again? The next bit…um…I want you sitting down for, ok?”

He nodded and tried to give her a smile - but the tone of her voice suddenly made his stomach clench again. He picks up the bottle of scotch, then reconsiders and puts it back in the bar, shutting the cabinet. He settles himself back on the far end of the couch - making sure that he’s turned to face her. 

She smoothes out her skirt as she sits down. He couldn’t think of a moment in their entire history together when she looked as nervous as she did right then. 

“Ok…I owe you answers. But can I ask, can you try not to get mad?”

“You can ask, but that’s not something I can promise. We both know that.”

“I know…I had to ask.”

"Jess…please…enough, just talk.”

She nodded. “Right. Nick…I was telling you the truth when I left. I really was going to figure myself out.”

"I still don’t know what that means.”

“I think it started when you came up with your big plan…the one about owning a bar and all that…”

“What started?”

She shook her head, clearly an indication he should let her just talk. He mumbled an apology and shut his mouth again. 

“I was so proud of you - you had spent so much time trying to figure out what you wanted to do and suddenly you had this plan and it was a great plan. You were excited about it. And I was excited about it. But the more you talked about it and the more you started making it happen…I felt…well, lost. Like I didn’t know where I fit in. It felt like you suddenly had your future mapped out and knew exactly where you wanted to go and where you wanted to end up and I didn’t. I felt like I was just this person who was along for the ride.”

“Jess! No…you were never…”

“Nick! Please…I need to just tell you this, you can object and get upset over things after. Okay?”

“Okay…I’m sorry.”

“I wanted a plan too. I wanted to feel more…involved in my own life, and I just didn’t. That’s what I meant when I said I needed perspective - I needed to figure out if there was something else I wanted to do. I didn’t just want to get married and have a family…I didn’t just want to be a teacher or a vice-principal or a wife or a mother or a…whatever…I wanted my own plan. I wanted to feel like I really going to do something with my life too! So, I decided that maybe if I went to Portland for a couple weeks - spent some time talking to my mom - I would figure things out. But I didn’t want to tell you - because I was worried if I did, then I’d derail your plan. And I wasn’t going to do that - I thought, I’d go to Portland…do some crafting…have some fun…and then come back and surprise you with this new idea and we’d become this awesome couple with a plan.”

She sighed again and sipped her water, almost as though resolving herself to go on. 

“I needed to do that…before…” She trailed off.

“Before what, Jess?”

“Before you proposed.”

“Oh…you knew?” His tried to keep the surprise out of his voice, and briefly wondered how well he succeeded. 

“I found the ring.”

“Guess, I didn’t do a very good job hiding it.” He glanced towards the bedroom - he, in fact, still had the ring and knew exactly where it was. 

“I found it when you were making fried eggs without a shirt on and you kept burning yourself…I got you a shirt and it was just there. Lying on top of one of your Blackhawks shirts.”

“Yeah…I sucked at hiding things.”

“It scared me a little - that you were so ready to jump into marriage…we had barely begun looking for an apartment and here you were, buying a ring. I needed to figure out things…”

“You know, if you’d talked to me, I would have waited, right? I wouldn’t have proposed until you were ready…Jess, I was totally content just to be moving out with you!”

“I know…but Nick, I didn’t want you to. I wanted to marry you…I just needed to make sure that all the other parts of my life were ready to be so…adult. So, I decided to figure myself out. It felt like the right thing to do…going to Portland. And it was at first.”

“At first?”

“Yeah…After a week, I felt more like myself again. I was thinking about all these crazy creative things I wanted to try doing - and I had all these ideas that I wanted to tell you.”

“Something happened…didn’t it?”

“Yes…God, Nick…” She lowered her eyes again and he watched as those big and bright eyes filled with tears again.

Nick couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t handle this…he was too far away from her. Watching her almost lose it time and time again while talking was making him want to rip his hair out. He pushed himself closer to her. He didn’t care if it was ok or not - he wasn’t going to let her go through this alone. He had let her be alone for three years…going through whatever had happened…and he was damned if she was going to sit there without him comforting her. And yeah, he knows how utterly fucked up all that sounds. 

He reached out and tugged one of her hands out of the death grip she’s holding the glass with. He wraps both his hands around her cold hand, squeezing it gently. She looks at him, a wave of questions passing across her face. He just smiles - his anger forgotten. “Tell me, Jess. Please…”

“I…I…uh…I hadn’t been feeling well.”

He starts to feel light headed. Oh god, was she sick? If she was sick, why wouldn’t she tell him?!

“I’d been feeling off in the weeks before I left. I figured I was just tired or something…which made the idea of the trip that much more appealing, although every time I felt bad or sick all I wanted was to curl up with you.”

“But you went…” His voice is strained. 

“Yeah. I went. And it just wasn’t getting better. I kept getting these headaches and I ached all over - it was weird. My mom and Abby kept trying to get me to call you…”

“Why didn’t…”

“Honestly? I have no idea. Really! I wanted to, but there was something stopping me. Just a feeling that I should wait to call you.” 

“What happened?” He was having a really hard time not crying - something was nagging him, something about the tone of her voice, as though she was omitting something - or building to something - something important. And although every fibre of his body was telling him what it was, he was trying so hard to ignore it…and he was so scared that she was about to tell him exactly what it was. 

I woke up one morning with these intense cramps. My mom called the ambulance and they took me to the ER.”

“God…Jess.”

“That was when…when I found out that I was pregnant.”

**\--/—**

He feels like he’s inside a sound tunnel - only one where there is an absence of every other sound except for those words. Those words are ricocheting around his brain like a runaway cannon ball - causing a lot of damage. His brain feels like its on fire with those words - like they’re being seared into the very fabric of his mind. 

_I found out that I was pregnant_ .

Oh…oh…Its as though those words are causing a very powerful physical reaction - he’s trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. A tightness that is terribly foreign and familiar all at once. Oh fuck…it hurts.

He didn’t think he could hurt like this still…but then again, he momentarily forgot how easily Jessica Day could hurt him. He’d been blinded by the fact that she was here, that she was in his home. He’d been stupid enough to let his guard down…and then, this.

He felt blindsided. 

Pregnant. 

She’d had a baby. 

His baby. 

Their baby. 

Oh…god…it was getting harder to breathe. 

He was a father. He was a dad.

He could feel himself struggling to get air. And the room was growing very bright…fuck…he remembered this. 

He was about to hyperventilate…he was about to have a panic attack. 

He leaned over, putting his head between his knees - just the way he remembered the doctor from three years ago telling him to do when he felt a panic attack coming on. He tried sucking in some more air - slowly. Focus on getting air into his lungs. 

She wouldn’t do that…she wouldn’t do this. Jessica Day would never - ever - have his child and then not tell him about it for three years. No. That’s not her! That’s not something she would ever do. 

There has to be some other explanation! 

He moans long and loudly…trying hard to catch his breath. The noise comes out more like a loud wheeze than an actual moan. 

Breaking through the absence of sound inside his head, is her voice, sounding panicked and scared. He tried to focus on it, just incase it was important that he do so, but the word ‘pregnant’ somehow just keeps getting in the way. 

“Nick…are you ok? Please answer me?!” She’s rubbing his back now. 

Ok, that question got through. He slowly turned his head, she was looking down at him and she looked scared. Right…he forgot…the panic attack thing started after she’d left. She has no idea this was a thing now. 

Huh. It was funny seeing her from this angle - all tilted. 

He’s still holding her hand. But he doesn't want to be holding her hand right now - he pulls it away and presses it into his head. He also forgot how bad his head could hurt with these damn attacks. 

“Nick…you’re scaring me.”

He squeezes his eyes close - he needs to collect himself. He has even more questions now. So many more things he needs to understand…but he can’t do that if he’s not able to breathe or talk. He focuses on his breathing again. He needs to calm down. Slowly, his breathing starts to return to normal - or at least some approximation of normal. 

Very slowly, he turns his head again to look at her. “Sorry…” He sounds hoarse. “I get…uh…panic attacks, well I used to…been a while.”

“What?! You never used…”

“After you left…they started right after.”

“Oh. God…are you ok? Do you need me to get you something?”

“No…I think I’m ok.”

“Do you want some water?” She held her glass out to him. He took it and slowly sipped at the cold water. HIs hand’s shaking…he’s scared. He damn well knows that he’s terrified of what’s about to come. 

“Jess…am I…did you…am I a dad?”

The look on her face makes him instantly wish he had never asked that question and it makes him feel even worse than before. Its a look of such sorrow and sadness that it makes his chest feel even tighter. He almost whimpers.

He’s seen Jess look sad many times before - breakups, the loss of her job, his stupid antics, finding out her dad was getting remarried, her general empathy to everything and everyone around her…but never before has he ever seen her look this sad. She looks like the world had declared war on her…its an old sadness, one she’s had too much practice dealing with. He finds that he’s rocking himself back and forth slightly…this is too much. This is way too much. He never expected this.

Why couldn’t it have just been another guy?

He lets his head fall forward again, needing the comfort of the space between his knees. 

He feels her hand on the nape of his neck. It’s cold - probably from the water glass - and it feels so good. So familiar and reassuring. He uses it to focus - the coolness of her hand, it helps him even his breathing and come back to himself. Slowly, he starts to return to himself - his breathing becoming totally normal - and, although the tightness in his chest doesn’t go away completely, it lessens. He sits back, taking a few shaky breaths, but he doesn’t quite trust himself to speak…and just nods to her. 

“Are you ok?” Her hand is still on the back of his neck. He’s perfectly content to have it stay there even though he’s pretty angry at her right now, but he also hurts for her - he hurts for them.

He just nods.

“I’m so sorry, Nick…I didn’t realize you had panic attacks…I should have better prepared you for that.”

“Maybe…sorry…I wasn’t expecting…”

“I know.”

“What happened?”

“That night…when I was cramping so badly…they ran the pregnancy test right away and I found out like a few hours later. I think I started laughing - it was so ridiculous. But it made sense - and then I started thinking about how you were going to react. I figured you’d either freak out or go all crazy dad-to-be on us. I kept envisioning you buying all these baby things or trying to build a crib from scratch. I wanted to call you right away - but there was something wrong. The cramps were getting worse…and then…” Her voice started to trail off, becoming a soft whimper. He shifted closer to her, wanting to reach out and touch her - comfort her. When she started speaking again, he could hear the grief. “After they told me I was pregnant, I started getting excited - I know we hadn’t talked about it, but in my head I envisioned our little family. You, me and the baby - making our way in the world. Going to farmers markets with a carriage, or you wandering around with one of those baby carriers strapped to your chest, or going on picnics…all these amazing images just kept popping into my head. And I realized, it was what I wanted. I wanted us to be a family - I got excited. And then…suddenly, I wasn’t pregnant anymore.” 

“Jess…fuck…I’m…”

She just shakes her head, a dark look on her face. “Officially, it was a run of the mill miscarriage, unofficially - they said that I had some kind of infection that might have contributed to it.”

“Run of the mill?”

“Nick…I don’t want to…they happen all the time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“This is the part where you’re going to get mad.”

“Okay…”

“I refused to let anyone tell you - I made them all promise.”

“Why?”

“Because…because…” Jess takes a small breath. “Nick, have you ever been sad?”

“Of course I have…Jess…what do you mean?”

“Not just sad, Nick…but so sad that you’re not entirely sure that you’ve ever been happy or could ever be happy again?”

“Oh…Jesus…I…”

“It wasn’t even grief - the counsellors and therapists that paraded through my life all said it was a stage of grief…but it wasn’t. It was like…all the colour had been leeched out of my world. It was like I had lost myself - that optimistic, happy person was gone and in her place was this sad hurt woman who could barely function…All I could focus on was how sad I was, how I was having a hard time feeling anything really…I couldn’t go forward and I couldn’t go backwards…I was just existing and I wasn’t sure how to even do that. The miscarriage…it didn’t just take the baby, which was barely a baby at that point, it took…everything…even you.”

“What?”

“I convinced myself that the miscarriage was a sign that we weren’t supposed to be together - that we wouldn’t work. That I was damaged and you wouldn’t want to be with me because…because I was so sad.”

“What?” 

“I was so confused and upset and…sad. Nick, I know it doesn’t make any sense, but in the midst of all that sadness, I convinced myself that losing the baby was a sign that we wouldn't work…that we couldn’t be together.”

“That’s why you…”

“Yes.”

Nick stared at her. He felt like he was trapped in some horrible made-for-television movie, the kind he used to watch just so he could point out every single plot hole in the damn thing. And this right here was a pretty massive plot hole. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, then pushed himself up off the couch. 

He started to walk toward the kitchen, then stopped - what was he planning on doing in there? There was nothing there that could make this…situation any better or any less fucked up. So he turned back, walking towards the couch, but the problem there was that Jess was sitting on his couch, watching him with a worried look. So he turned again - maybe go to the bar cabinet? Or walk down the hallway and shut himself in the bedroom? Or the office - he could start reading some of the resumes for the chefs he was thinking about hiring for dinner service. 

Or he could grab his whiskey glass and throw it across the room. But even that wouldn’t help matters. Nothing was going to fix this. Nothing. 

Portland.

Pregnancy.

A miscarriage.

Depression…

She had taken losing the baby - their baby - as a sign that they weren’t meant to be together. 

Suddenly, Nick craved the logical reasoning of making a cocktail - where things just made sense. They came together in a real and understandable way, because this was anything but understandable. 

He turned back to look at her. “Jess…that is the most fucked up thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I know…Nick. I know.”

“Okay, so I’m not trying to ignore or lessen how big of a deal being depressed is…and you were depressed…but, you actually thought that…a…what…a medical condition was a sign from something or someone telling you that what…?”

“I don’t know, Nick! I was scared and in pain and everything felt so…horrible and unreal and blown out of proportion. It doesn’t make sense - not even a little bit - but it did at the time. I can’t explain it - I can’t describe it, except to say that everything felt so…so blank. Like nothing mattered. I wanted to just shut myself off from everything and everyone - but the idea that you would reject me because of it…it was all I could think about. So breaking up with you - leaving you and LA and everyone behind…it made sense to me. Because…because it meant I could just keep not caring about things. I just wanted to hide - hide myself away from the world.”

“I…I don’t even know how to reply to that! I’m so sorry this happened to you, but goddamn it Jess, I would have been there - I would have helped you! But I can’t believe you…you actually thought that something so horrible as that meant that you and I weren't meant for each other! Jess…I wouldn’t have blamed you! I wouldn’t have rejected you - I would have loved you. I would have helped you - however you wanted me to! Please know that!”

“Nick…I didn’t want to…it was like I just knew that you would reject me. Nick, please understand…it was like I stopped feeling everything but how sad I was. And even thinking about you - the one person who would have done anything to help me - still made me sad. It didn’t make sense, but in my mind it…it just did.”

"Does it still?”

"What?”

“Does it still make sense? I just need to know if you know how crazy it sounds.”

“Of course! It took me a long time to realize it…but I do know that now. Of course by the time I realized it, the damage had been done. I couldn’t come back and…”

“And what?”

“Ask you to take me back. Or forgive me. In my mind, the whole situation got worse and worse - and I got sadder and sadder…I decided that you probably never wanted to see me again and had moved on.” 

“This is insane.”

“I know…believe me, I’ve had people telling me how insane I was for three years.”

“Did Abby know…the day I came to Portland?”

“Yes…she begged me to find you after you left.” 

“Were you there…in the house?”

“No…I was at my dad’s. Where dad and Ashley spent the entire time yelling at me and trying to convince me to call you. I finally convinced him it was what I wanted - although, he’s disagreed with me since day one.”

“And my voice mails?”

“I got them…god, Nick, I hated how lost you sounded…but even though I knew I should go to the airport, it was too much…even getting out of bed was too much. It felt insurmountable. It was easier to let you leave…it was just easier to let you go.”

“So, you ended us because it was easier?”

“No…Nick…I ended us because I couldn’t care enough to even begin to try to explain. Because…I didn’t want you to be one of the people telling me to try and be happy…and I was certain that you’d blame me - be mad at me - for what had happened.”

“Fuck…Jess. I wouldn’t have! I would have taken care of you.”

“I know. I know that now!”

"I loved you so much.” Nick is surprised at himself for the past tense - two hours ago, when she walked in the condo, he was so sure that his love for her was still rooted in the present tense. Now, he didn’t know how he felt.

“I loved you too. God, I loved you…I still…”

“Jess…I still…I don’t understand.”

“I can’t tell you more than what I have…Nick, I wish I could…I wish I had a reason that didn’t sound crazy.”

“But…its not crazy! Don’t call what you were dealing with crazy, Jess…I just…I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t even reach out to me a little. And why did you do it to all of us? Why cut Cece out?”

“It…it just…”

“Just what?”

“For all the same reasons, Nick. I didn’t want her telling you. I didn’t want her joining the chorus of voices telling me to just try and feel happy - that I could have other children…that I should just talk to you. And I knew if I told her, she would do everything in her power to bring us back together. And I had convinced myself that all I would face from you and her was judgement and pity and rejection…and I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any of it. So I made the second worst decision of my life…and I cut her out of my life.”

“What was the first?”

“Cutting you out…”

“Fuck…Jess.”

“Nick…believe me I know how crazy this all sounds. There have been days when I’d wake up and try to understand why I did what I did…and I can’t. God, and explaining this to Cece…she’ll never believe or understand me.” 

Nick knows that he could tell her about Cece - and the fact that he’s not seen or talked to her since that day in the hospital three years ago. Hell, he he doesn’t even know where she is anymore. He could tell Jess that…but this isn’t a conversation about that. He’s not ready to talk about that. This is a conversation about them.  

He sighs and runs his hand over his face again - giving his goatee a slight tug. “So, to make sure I never found out about this, you cut your best friend out of your life? That sounds even crazier…you know that right?”

“Yes! I do…I’ve spent a lot of time figuring that out!”

Nick walked back to the couch and sank down onto it. “Jesus…Jess…this is a lot.”

“I know, Nick. I’m sorry…I wish I could take it back. I’ve spent so long wanting to take it all back. I want to make things right with us again. And I’m willing to try anything to do that.”

Nick looked at her. She has that serious face that he remembered so well - it was the one that he used to associate with having to put aside everything he was doing and get ready for a really serious talk. Either that or it meant that she had some super serious project that was about to consume her - and him - for an entire weekend. Or it used to mean a night of really awesome sex. He used to love that face. Now…he doesn’t know quite how to feel about it. He just…he’s overwhelmed and stunned and hurt. 

“How…how did you figure shit out?”

“Dave. Honestly…”

“Huh?”

“He’s a psychiatrist - he saw me on my first day in the hospital, he was covering for someone so I never saw him again. And then, six months later he showed up at my mom’s door, wanting to see me. At first, I thought he was trying to ask me out until he started talking about his husband. He took me for coffee and told me that I had a whole hour where he wouldn’t ask me a single thing about how I feeling or what was wrong or anything - unless I wanted to talk about it. So I didn’t - I sat there in silence. And then he drove me home. Two days later, he showed up again and did the same thing. After two weeks of it, I finally asked him why he was doing this. 

He said, that he’s suffered from depression his whole life, but after his finance - the guy before Chris - left him for a bevy of other guys, his depression got so bad that he couldn’t leave the house for weeks on end. Until a friend of his started taking him out for coffee and letting him sit in silence for an hour a day - and one day he suddenly felt like talking. He said that he finally got some help because of it. And he wanted to try and do the same for me. And I…eventually I started talking.”

“And he got you realize…”

“He got me to realize that I needed help. That there was something seriously wrong…they say that after a miscarriage, depression can last for months or even years - but I hadn't even realized how bad I had gotten until Dave asked when the last time it was that I talked about things with my family…it had been six months. I had completely pushed them all away for half a year! Dave was the one who gently suggested I try talking to a professional. He got me set up with a psychiatrist that specializes in depression following pregnancy loss - I even went on some anti-depression medication for a while, but I hated it.”

“I’m…”

“Please don’t. Please don’t apologize, Nick…what I went through, am going through, it was horrible…but it wasn’t your fault, okay? I’m sorry I left - I’m sorry I hurt you like I did. But it was so hard to explain it - and everything just felt so…blank. It was just easier walking away…and I know that it was the worst thing I could have done. But I did it - and I’m dealing with the consequences. So, I’m the one that needs to apologize.”

“No…you don’t! Jess…fuck…I don’t even know how to say…but, thank you. Thank you for telling me…and for apologizing, that does mean a lot. But you don’t need to be sorry for…being sad. None of what happened was your fault.”

“I know, Nick…but I still made the choice.”

“But you were’t thinking…look, your leaving hurt me a lot…it really fucked me up. In a lot of ways, but you coming back and telling me why…it means a lot to me. But I don’t blame you - fuck, I’d be the world’s worst person if I did.”

"You’re not mad?”

"I…I don’t know what I am, Jess. But I’m not mad at you. I…Jess…this is a lot to take in. I don’t even know how to start dealing with it. I’m going to need some time, ok?”

“Ok. Totally fair. Completely fair. But thank you so much for listening to me…”

Nick just nods. His eyes feel funny, he reaches up to wipe them, only to find his whole face is wet. He’s been crying this whole time and hadn’t even realized it. He’s exhausted. 

“Nick…can, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened after I left…after we broke up. Where’s Schmidt and Winston and Cece? Why aren’t they here…I was expecting them.”

This time he just shakes his head. He’s not ready to talk about that…not after all she’s confessed to him. Not after talk of miscarriages and depression and…so much sadness. “No. I can’t today, Jess. Not after everything you’ve just told me. I can’t talk about that. Another time…sure…but not today, please?”

He can see her wanting to ask more - wanting to push and make him tell her, but she must see something in his face, some kind of warning that makes her pause. “Oh…yeah. Okay. I’m sorry.” But he knows by that tone that she will want to talk about it…and he knows he’ll see her again, soon, and he’ll have to tell her everything. But for now…now he needs time. He needs to find a way to process this. 

Nick Miller - who has never been good at figuring out his emotions - needs to find a way to deal with knowing that three years ago Jess was alone and hurt and depressed in Portland because she lost his child. Suddenly, the desire to be alone for a while - to lie in bed and cry or drink himself stupid - is overwhelming. 

He needs his home back…he needs to be by himself. 

“Jess?” 

“Yes?”

“Can…would it be ok if you went home? I’m sorry…but I’m exhausted from all this. I know you want to tell me more - I know you probably want to talk…but I think I need to just think for a while…and I have to be at the bar tonight too.”

“Oh, right. Ok.” For a second, it looked like she was about to say something else…whatever it was seemed to die on her lips. She stands up and smoothes down her skirt again. “Thank you - for listening…for everything.”

“Yeah.”

She walks towards the door, and he finds himself following her. They stand in the doorway - staring at each other - clearly both unsure of what to say to each other. His brain is a jumble of emotions that he can’t seem to reign in - he’s happy to see her, relieved at having some kind of closure, sad at everything he’s found out…but at the same time, he feels empty and drained. All he wants to do is go and crawl into his bed and sleep. She lifts her hand - as though she is about to stroke his cheek…a move that is so deeply familiar to both of them - a touch weighted with the a multitude of memories for both of them. But, at the last second, she seems to reconsider the gesture and lets her hand drop back to her side. She does offer him a smile - sad, but hopeful.

He tries to return it, but he feels his attempt falter before his facial muscles even start to form the gesture. He wants to give her some kind of hope - some kind of reassurance that she doesn’t need to feel sad or alone anymore…because she’s back. And he’s here. But he doesn’t know if he really is there - he doesn’t know what connection they’re going to have. Yet, he tries to instil some sense of hope in her nonetheless.

“Bye, Nick.”

“Bye, Jess.” 

And then she slips out the door, moving towards the elevator. He watches as she presses the call button and steps into the car when the doors slide open. She glances back towards him, putting her hand on the door to prevent it from closing. 

“Nick.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you - all this. The bar, your condo…the way you’ve changed…you did good, MIller. I’m proud of you…”

He can feel the heat of a blush rising on his face. He gives her his most convincing smile. “Thank you.” 

She returns his smile with a small one of her own and steps into the elevator.  

And then she’s gone. 

Nick stands there - staring out at the empty hallway for a long moment, then he closes the door and walks into the living room to gather up the discarded glasses. He carries them into the kitchen and washes them, leaving them to dry in the dish rack. Opening the cupboard where he keeps his secret stash of junk food, he grabs a bag of Trader Joe’s Chocolate Covered potato chips. He yanks the bag open and shoves a handful into his mouth. 

Chewing furiously, he walks down the hallway towards his bedroom. Then, tossing the bag onto his bed, he pulls off his shirt and jeans. Naked, he crawls into bed, clutching the bag of chips. 

For the first time in three years, Nick has answers. He has the reasons he’s craved ever since that awful phone call - but they are all the wrong reasons. They are the worst possible answers imaginable! He doesn’t want these answers. He doesn’t want Jess to have gone through what she went through - a miscarriage, an insurmountable sadness, feeling that she had no other choice but to walk away from them - from LA - and then years of hell thinking she had made this horrible mistake - but so trapped in her own sadness that she had no idea how to fix it. 

No. He doesn’t want these answers. These answers are hurting him even more than the non-answers he’d lived with for so long. 

Angrily he shoves another chip into his mouth - he rarely eats like this. The only reason he ever buys the chips is because they’re one of his favourite things for cheat day…but there’s a weird comfort in them now. 

Nick tries to imagine how she felt - what she went through. He tries to imagine those emotions and that suffering…but he can’t. He can’t fathom a mindset where it made sense - even in the face of sadness - that walking away from those who loved her and supported her was the right thing to do. He just didn’t understand. 

And now, Nick had a new struggle to face - grief over the loss of a pregnancy he had no knowledge of. And that was a grief they should have been allowed to deal with together - he should have been allowed to comfort and love her. But he wants to get it - he wants to understand about the loss and the sadness…but its hard. Fuck…this is hard!

It strikes Nick that he has no idea how to conceptualize what she went through - because he wasn't allowed to take part in that grief. He has no idea how to understand her depression…because he doesn’t know what that depression even looked like. Nick has spent the last three years grieving over the loss of his relationship with Jess, he never thought he would have something else to grieve…

There’s too much to grieve over. 

He knows he needs to get perspective. He needs to try finding some sense of understanding…if he’s going to have Jess back in his life, in any capacity, he needs to figure things out. But he can’t do that now…he can’t even begin that process right now. Right now, he needs to let himself just…feel. 

He taps the panel next to the bed, causing the windows to turn transparent, instantly surrounding himself with the LA landscape and city scape. He turns onto his side, dropping the bag of chips on the floor, and as he stares out towards the Beverly Hills, he lets himself cry. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark & Stormy (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_%27N%27_Stormy)
> 
> I'd like to briefly mention a few sources that I turned to in writing about depression: WebMD, Psychology Today, and Allie Brosh's Hyperbole and a Half. Although much of my own experiences with depression is reflected here, I needed some further perspective to help me write Jess' story.


	9. Chapter 8 - Vesper Martini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two conversations - one in the past, one in the present - give Nick the strength to move forward.

Fatherhood. 

Up until two days ago, Nick had barely even given the idea much thought. 

Well, okay, that was a complete lie. He had given it a bit of thought…mostly in vague and abstract terms, not in any real or concrete way. Mostly, he’d limited ideas about fatherhood to what kind of father he would make…and even then, those thoughts had usually only popped into his head while he and Jess were dating. In the last three years, however, even the very idea of fatherhood had been the farthest thing from his mind. For the last three years, there had been zero possibility of becoming a father…its hard to have a family when you’re too busy avoiding any situation that result in one. Not that he’s been celibate, except in the emotional arena. 

Unless, he counted his bar as his child…and if he did, then he really was as pathetic and sad as he suspected. 

For the last two days, Nick had been at a complete loss as to what he should do. His natural inclination was to bury himself in work and just ignore the world around him. Ignore the awfulness of what he now knew about Jess’ departure from his life. But, strangely, there was another part of him that really didn’t want to ignore and avoid that information. Part of him wanted…wanted to know more. 

And it was that part of him that kept coming back to the idea being a father. 

It wasn’t that he was upset or angry over the miscarriage - he wasn’t an asshole - but he felt a kind of discomfort at the loss of a hypothetical life that could have been. He kept thinking about what Jess had said she’d thought of when she found out about the pregnancy. That she kept envisioning him as a father…not what she would be like as a mother, but what he would be like as a father. Of course, she probably also thought about what it would be like to be a mother, but still the image of him as father had struck her enough that pointedly mentioned it to him. And he just kept latching onto those images.

He couldn’t shake the image of him wearing a baby carrier…wandering around with his son or daughter…probably running off no sleep because the baby had been up all night and smelling slightly of baby vomit and diaper lotion. But most all, he couldn’t shake the how insanely happy those images made him feel. And feeling that happy just at the thought of fatherhood made the realization that Jess must have really and truly suffered because of the miscarriage and losing the possibility of becoming a mother - a family - even harder to endure. 

Because as much as the loss of his hypothetical life as a father constantly sent him on an emotional roller coaster ride; it was the knowledge of how much harder that loss was for her - a physical, emotional, physiological loss - was unimaginable. The emotions he kept experiencing over and over again, must have been multiplied by a million for her. He felt ill thinking that she’d experienced all that alone. 

Nick pushed the now cold piece of toast with avocado away from him and glanced at the clock on his PVR - 4:45 in the afternoon. He didn’t have to be at the bar for hours. Since it was a Monday night, he hoped it would be nice and quiet - which meant he could either just hole himself away and try to focus on going over some of the bar’s accounts or even try and go home a bit earlier and maybe catch up on some of the sleep he’d missed over the last little while. Or, it might just be incredibly busy and he’d be run off his feet, meaning that he wouldn’t have time to think about Jess or miscarriages or fatherhood. He just wasn’t sure which of those two he preferred. 

Of course, he needed to figure out what he was going to do with himself for the rest of the day. He’d already gotten up early - being unable to sleep - and gone to the gym, then spent the rest of his day doing…well, nothing. Nothing but thinking and brooding and contemplating everything Jess had told him. And for the last hour, he’d been sitting at his dining table, an issue of Wine & Spirits sitting unread in front of him, and his lunch sitting unwanted and growing cold and stale. All because Nick couldn’t shake Jess’ words from Saturday out of his head. 

Nick sighed as he yet again thought about being a father…he couldn’t help but ruminate on the idea. And every time he did, every time he thought about being a father, a voice out of the past drifted through his mind, reassuring and excited. Four years ago, he had voiced the very questions plaguing him now - but in a different context, not one of loss but of curiosity. That conversation - so innocuous at the time - had been the starting point in a decision that clearly had had lasting consequences for his future. 

*****Four Years Ago*****

“Do you think I’m going to make a good dad?” 

Nick’s voice sounds unbearably loud in the nearly empty loft, which causes the question to just sort of hang in the air. Nick rarely surprises himself, but lately he seems to have this crazy tendency of forgetting to filter himself around his roommates. Maybe its because he’s been feeling so fucking happy with himself and his life, or maybe his relationship with Jess feel so normal, that he wants to interject some of that normalcy into the craziness of Winston and Schmidt’s lives.But whatever it is, it makes him stupid enough to ask questions like this, without thinking about what the response would be. 

Fuck.

But its not as though he can help it. The question has been on his mind for hours. Almost as soon as he and Jess had finished watching Boyhood the night night, he’s started obsessing over the question of fatherhood. To make matters worse, it had been his own dad’s birthday a few days ago, and anything having to do with Walt usually sends him into a tailspin of doubt and stress over his own potential as a father.  

Why he felt, however, the need to ask that particular question right now, in front of Schmidt of all people, was completely beyond him. 

It was a unseasonably rainy Sunday afternoon for LA in July, which had not deterred Jess from dragging Cece to see some new exhibit at LACMA, something Nick was glad to pass up in lieu of a quiet day on the couch. Of course, the moment Schmidt had discovered Nick wasn’t going out, he’d claimed Nick’s time as his own - putting together ‘a dude’s day’. Sadly, ‘dude’s day’ consisted of mostly listening to Schmidt talk about his exercise routine, some new hot girl at work, Schmidt’s latest diet craze, and why Nick should start drinking green juices every morning. 

Schmidt had found some documentary on wine sommeliers on Netflix, which had shut him up for the last hour, leaving Nick to sit quietly and think about becoming a dad. The more he thought about fucking Boyhood and his own relationship with his father…or non-relationship as it seemed at times…the more that question started to burn in his brain. And suddenly…it was busting out of him. Which was really something he should have fought a bit harder to stop. This was the worst possible time to voice his inner thoughts. He had never actually planned to ask Schmidt…or anyone really. Well, maybe Jess, but that was different. 

Nonetheless, the question was out there now…and based on the completely shocked look on Schmidt’s face, it had been a very unexpected question. Nick carefully kept his eyes locked onto Schmidt, trying to encourage his friend not to freak out. Sadly, short of giving the man a tranquilizer, a freak out was clearly coming. 

“What?!” Schmidt actually launched himself off the couch and started pacing around the living room. “What?! My god! Nicholas! Do you have something you need to tell me…do you and Jess need to tell me something. Wait! Does Jess know!…”

Nick smiled at that last point - it was very much a Schmidt thing to say.

“…dear lord, a baby….HERE IN THE LOFT! No! That is going to change the entire dynamic of this place! Oh no! This is…this is awful. Where will it live! What will it eat? Will we need to hire a nanny? OH NO! HOW WILL I GET ANY SLEEP!”

“Schmidt…” Nick tired to keep his voice calm and gentle. 

“But a baby! You and Jess…a baby! Oh, Nicholas! This is so wonderful…you guys will be such wonderful parents! Just think…oh I can see it now. I can see the whole thing. Jess is going knit the most adorable little clothes. And you’re going to want to make all the furniture for the baby’s room, which will just be lovely…we can go shopping for wood and I’d like to help, of course. We can have a baby shower! Oh, I will have to start planning that right away! This is going to be wonderful”

“Schmidt….”

“Oh! I’m going to be an uncle! ME! An uncle…Uncle Schmidty! And I bet its going to be a boy - yes I can feel it already! I knew it! I knew there was a new dynamic in the loft - a boy. A baby boy! Someone I can teach all about style and women…unless he’s into men, which makes no difference, because of course my pick up lines crosses every gender and sexuality. Oh! You must let me buy his first suit! I know that’s something a father usually does, but I absolutely must be involved…otherwise he’s going to wear…”

“SCHMIDT!!”

“What?! My god, Nick, are you not ecstatic about this? I would have thought that you would be…or are you worried…”

“Schmidt! Jess isn’t pregnant! And if she was, I wouldn’t tell you like this, man. She and I would tell you together! Dude, calm down.”

“What? Jess isn’t pregnant? Then why are you asking me about being a father?”

“Never-mind, Schmidt. Go back to your movie.” Nick sighed and grabbed his copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, which Jess had finally convinced him to read. 

“NIcholas Miller, put that book about the adorable and plucky Boo Radley down…”

“Uh…Schmidt, Boo Radley is neither of those things…”

“Put it down, Nick! And talk to me.”

“Schmidt, its nothing - okay? Just some stupid shit in my head.”

Schmidt sighs softly. “Look, man, I’m not trying to make you talk to me, but I am saying you can talk to me if you want…I’m not the best at talking about this stuff, but if you want to, I’m here.”

Nick thumbed through his book. He knew he could probably talk to Jess about all this. But leading a conversation with his girlfriend by saying ‘will I be a good dad’ probably wasn’t the best idea - he didn’t want to scare her away, and they’d only been back together for a year. But that movie…and his dad’s birthday…and if he was honest with himself, this had been on his mind for a while. He knew he wanted a family eventually…which was kind of amazing, considering he’d never really thought about that before. And he was pretty sure he wanted that family with Jess.

He dog eared the book and tossed it next to him on the sofa. Schmidt was no Jess, but he was here and he was offering to talk and to help - in his characteristically earnest way. Nick grumbled and squished his face up slightly. Yeah, okay…why not - it was only Schmidt. 

“I meant it, Schmidt. Do you think I’m going to be a good dad?”

“Of course! Look, just because you have no sense of style, never do any exercise and you might be the cheapest man alive, plus you’re the most unlikely romantic leading men I’ve ever met doesn’t mean you won’t be an absolutely amazing father.”

“Yeah…okay…that made me feel a lot better.”

“Nick…I’ve watched you with Jess over the past year, you’re different than you were before. You’re the most amazing boyfriend I’ve ever seen with a woman - attentive, protective, loving and all around just a perfect match for her. And, sure those qualities do nothing for me as a single man playing the field - but they do wonders for you, and this whole monogamous lifestyle you and Jess are doing.”

Nick chose to ignore some of Schmidt’s more offensive comments. “Sometimes…I worry I’m going to be like my own dad.”

“And what…be a liar and a cheat? And not support your kid?”

“Something like that…”

“Come on, Nick. Think about Jess…”

“I do…all the time…”

“No. Think about Jess having your baby…think about what it would be like to have a family with her. What’s the first thing you feel?”

Nick closed his eyes and thought about Jess telling him that they were going to have a baby. He thought about lamaze classes and buying baby clothes and changing diapers and sleepless nights and building cribs and strollers and he thought about a little baby with Jess’ eyes and maybe his hair or his ears. He thought about how that would make him feel. As he did, this sense of complete warmth spread over him - tinged with a kind of excitement that he’d never really felt before. 

He smiled as he opened his mouth to reply. “Happy.”

“Well…maybe being that happy just by thinking about it means that you’re going to be a pretty awesome dad. I mean, you’re not your father…not once have I ever seen you act like him and  you certainly don't treat Jess like he did your mom, right?”

“Constantly leaving…no, I’d never treat Jess like that!”

“Then what do you have to worry about, man!” 

 “Schmidt…”

“I’m serious. If you know you’re not going to treat her like that, then its pretty safe to say that you’re not going to treat your kids like that either. Nick…You’re going to be a good father. I know it. And I’m pretty sure Jess knows it too…cause I think she’s in this for the long haul too.”

“Ya think?”

“Yup.” 

Nick glanced out the window. It as still grey and raining - he wondered what Jess was doing. Just thinking about her made him feel better - he kind of wished she would come home now, he wanted to see her and talk to her. He felt Schmidt give his leg a shove. 

Surprisingly, Nick realized, that Schmidt was right. The way that Jess made him feel wasn’t suddenly going to go away if he became a father - it might actually intensify. All he had to do was be willing to be the best father he could be. And if it meant making sure Jess continued to smile at him the way she did this morning before she left, or having a little boy or girl smile at him in the same way…then he was willing to do just that. 

It dawned on him that Schmidt was talking again. He turned back to his friend. “What?”

“I asked if we were done with the heavy emotional talk.”

“Yeah…sorry…yeah.”

“I meant what I said - you’ll be a great dad. Don’t worry so much, Nick!”

“Thanks. Thanks, man.”

“Ok…so you wanna watch Inception and maybe The Dark Knight? This movie’s kinda boring.”

“Yeah, dude. Let’s watch some Leo and Batman. But can you not spend the whole Dark Knight movie talking about how misunderstood the villains are…its disturbing.”

“You’re aware of my opinions!” 

Nick just shook his head, mumbling his distaste, as Schmidt got up from the sofa. “But seriously, man, thanks for listening.” 

Schmidt waved at Nick, dismissing what he was saying, muttering under his breaths about the insanity of committed couples and how disgustingly gross it was that Nick and Jess were so happy. He wandered into the kitchen to find chips and beer, yelling over his shoulder for Nick to put the movie in. 

Nick pushed himself off the sofa and wandered into his bedroom to find the DVDs, knowing that Jess tended to hide her DVDs ever since Winston, Schmidt and Nick had played frisbee with her copy of The Muppets. As he turned on the movie, everything that Schmidt had said was quite repeating itself in his brain. The idea of actually trying to start a family with Jess - of building that with her. Fuck, it was terrifying, but also wonderfully appealing and exhilarating all at once. 

Nick settled back against the cushions, but as he watched Dom Cobb’s dreamscape play out in front of him, Nick couldn’t help but visualize bouncing a tiny person on his lap while Jess’ laugh echoed in some far off fantasy apartment. 

** ****************** **

Four hours later, while Nick was lying on his and Jess’ bed, his mind was still hung up on his conversation with Schmidt from a few hours earlier. He had his eyes closed and was listening to Iron and Wine, which he always pretend to hate, but actually loved. He felt like he’s been playing and replaying his talk with Schmidt over and over again…like some youtube video stuck on repeat. But talking to Schmidt had made one thing absolutely certain - he did want a family. Wanting a family had never been in the game plan before. He’d never gotten completely on board with the idea before…or at least, it was something it was something he was sure he’d never been destined for. He’d always been certain that having a family was something he just wouldn’t accomplish - he was too fucked up when it came to relationships to actually manage building a family. 

His relationship with Caroline would never have resulted in the kind of family he’d been envisioning all day long - that was a damaged and damaging relationship, not entirely based on respect or love. And the other string of women he’d dated over the years, either none had stuck around long enough for him to actually consider having a family with them, or they’d been more flings than actual partners. 

Except Jess. With Jess, anything was possible. And he wanted all those possibilities. 

But if he was going to do it - if he was going to make this fantasy future family a reality - he needed to change a few things. He’d already knew that he didn’t want to be a crappy bartender forever, he wanted to do something that would make having a family a real possibility. He wanted to do something that would help provide for his family…unless he decided he wanted to be a stay at home dad, which might not be such a bad thing…but he needed to figure his shit out. 

He just wasn’t entirely sure yet how to do that. But he was willing to plan…and now that he knew what he wanted, he couldn’t wait to start planning. 

Get his shit in order and then start the family planning. He should also probably tell Jess about these developments at some point too. 

The bedroom door opened soundlessly. Nick was still lying, with his eyes closed, so he had no idea that Jess was standing in the doorway, watching him - a small smile on her lips. She put her purse and shopping bag down on the floor and moved carefully across the floor, not wanting to disturb him. He smiled as he felt the mattress dip and instinctively reached out to her. She let herself be pulled into his arms, resting her head on his chest, just underneath his chin.

“I thought you hated Iron and Wine.” Her voice was soft, almost as though she hated disturbing him, but underneath the softness was a slightest hint of teasing. 

“I do. But you listen to this damn album so much, it just grew on me and I had one of these stupid songs stuck in my head, so I decided to listen to it and get it unstuck.”

“You could just admit to liking it.”

“Nope. No way. Not happening.”

“I see right through you, Nick Miller.”

He laughed softly. “How was the art gallery?” He gave her a gentle squeeze. 

“Nice. I think Cece was bored until we got to the new exhibit on fashion.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how bored would I have been. One being Nick at a Chicago Bull’s playoff game all and ten being more bored than that time we won tickets to the opera.”

“Nine…there was some nudity involved.”

“If I’m going to an art gallery for nudity, there’s something wrong with me.”

“Sometimes, I like the nudity.”

“I could show you some nudity right now.”

“Mmmmm. Not yet - I like this.” She nuzzled his neck and snuggled in closer to him. “How was your bros afternoon?”

“He called it a ‘dude’s day’. And it was fine. Schmidt wanted to watch Inception and The Dark Knight - don’t worry I put back our DVDs.”

“Did he cry when the Joker got caught again?”

“I had to listen to his speech about the Joker being a sympathetic and misunderstood hero.”

“He gets the guy is a sociopath, right?”

“No, I’m not sure he does…and he’s seen the movie at least twenty times.” He hugged her even tighter. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too. You eat dinner yet?”

“No. Ate a lot of chips though.”

“Healthy. Although, I ate a bear claw the size of my head, so who am I to talk. Want to make something?”

“We could make chilli - we have all the stuff for it, I think. Its good rainy day food.”

“That sounds good. Although, so does just lying here like this.”

“We can do that too. Might get hungry though.”

“I suppose. Hey, Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I disappeared all day on your day off.”

“Its ok, Jess. You and Cece had plans…we have all night together. We can do whatever, unless you need to get ready for tomorrow?”

“No. Tonight, I’m all yours - lesson plans be damned. They can watch a movie or something tomorrow.”

“The Nick Miller school of teaching. I like it.” 

She suddenly pushed herself up so she was balanced on her elbows, looking down at him. He reached up and brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her face. He would never really get over how amazingly beautiful she was, nor would he ever really get over the fact that she was his. She smiled down at him and every muscle in his body felt like it was on fire. The urge to kiss her, to touch her, to feel her skin sliding against his own was overwhelming. 

He pushed himself up, capturing her lips and pulling her into a deep, lustful kiss, which she responded to with just as much passion. He loved kissing her like this, loved how intense they got when making out. Even after being back together for a whole year, it felt like it did that first morning after he carried her into her bedroom and they didn’t leave it again for a full twelve hours. It was…amazing. 

She pulled back slightly, her eyes bright and excited, lips swollen and pink - fuck, she was hot. “I love you, Nick. I love you so insanely much.” She whispered before falling back into the kiss. 

And as he felt her tongue slide against his, sending a torrent of electrical charges across his spine, Nick had yet another epihany that day. As he pushed her back, rolling them over, so he was straddling her, letting his fingers trail hotly down her side, he let the impact of his realization wash over him.

He was going to marry Jessica Day. 

Yes…he was going to propose to her. Maybe not to today…or tomorrow…maybe not for another year…but he was going to save up for the perfect ring. And then he was going to find the perfect ring. And then he was going to ask her to marry him. 

And he would be one step closer to making his future fantasy family a reality. 

Holy shit. 

******Present Day*****

Nick scraped the stale toast with its browned avocado into the garbage, tossing the plate into the sink with a satisfying crash - he was frustrated. Frustrated that his desire for answers and understanding kept leading him into the past. The answers he needed couldn’t be found there - they would never be found there. And they weren’t going to be found thinking about a conversation with Schmidt about how good of a father he’d be…and they certainly weren't going to be found recollecting amazing sex with Jess. All that thinking about the past would do now was make him feel awful and upset and sad over what had happened to Jess. 

No, if he was going to find any kind of understanding, it wasn’t found in his past with Jess - he needed to look at the present. Specifically, he needed to look at Jess’ present. And almost certainly, he needed to look to Portland.

Portland was where his answers could be found. 

Nick walked over to his fridge and grabbed Dave’s business card. He studied it carefully. He ran his thumb across the embossed letters, each letter of Dave’s name imprinting itself onto his skin. 

Dave Spence-Michaels. 

From some of what Jess had said on Saturday, this guy was a pretty big deal in her life. He had helped her claw her way out of her depression - or at least started her on that journey. He was her friend, her confidant and he was someone she trusted. And, if Nick went with the idea that this guy had Jess’ best intentions at heart, then maybe he would help Nick too. 

Maybe, Nick could trust him too. 

Nick flipped the card over and stared at the handwritten numbers on the back. By now he didn’t really need to look, he’d committed the numbers to memory - they were practically seared into his retinas. He could probably dial those numbers with his eyes closed. 

He turned and walked back to his dining table, clutching the card as though his life depended on it. He sat down and put the card in front of him and picked up his phone. This would be so easy, just dial the numbers - ten numbers - and he’d be able to talk to someone who understood and could help him understand too.  

All he could keep thinking about how she described what it felt like after the miscarriage. How all the colour disappeared from her world. How the bubbly, optimistic and energetic person - his Jessica Day - just seemed to disappear. Those words - that image - had made him sadder than he ever thought he could be. That she felt so alone and isolated…that she couldn’t even fathom turning to those who loved her - her family, her friends, him - it broke his heart. 

He hated the situation for her. He hated that she’d suffered. He wanted to protect her. Even after all this time, he still wanted to protect her. He still wanted to look after her. Of course, he doubted that she would want any of that once his confession was out in the open. 

God, the worry that he felt over her reaction to his fling with Cece - especially in light of her depression - was earth shattering. What if telling her caused a tailspin back into the depths of her depression? Or what if she ended up blaming herself for what had happened. There were so many what ifs, so many ways that his confession could hurt her.

But maybe getting some understanding, talking to Dave, could help him lessen the impact of what he had to tell her. Although he had no real intention of telling Dave about Cece - he was pretty sure that information would make its way right back to Jess. And he needed to be the one to tell Jess. 

He owed her that. 

He unlocked his phone and let his fingers hover over the phone icon for a moment before tapping. His fingers completely froze over the numbers - how was he even going to start this conversation? How the hell was he going to ask a man he barely knew for help understanding his ex-girlfriend’s depression after her miscarriage. He had no idea how this was going to play out. 

In the end, he knew he would just have to take the plunge. He typed in Dave’s cell number. 

It was then that he remembered that Dave and Chris were leaving LA today - but he had no idea what time they were leaving. Which meant, he might be calling them while they were still here, - with Jess - or he might be calling them while they were flying or anything. 

Shit.

He should have planned better! 

It rang five times, then a gruff and tired sounding voice filled his ear. 

“Hello?”

Nick sucked in a deep breath - the words ‘Don’t be with Jess’ echoing through his brain - and with as much confidence as he could muster, answered back. “Hi, Dave? This is Nick Miller.”

There was a slight pause, as though Dave was either trying to remember who Nick was or he was momentarily taken aback at receiving this phone call. Then, “Nick! Oh, wow…uh…can you…um, hold on a second, okay?”

“Uh sure…look if this is a bad…”

“No…its fine. Just give me a second okay?”

 Nick could picture Dave lowering the phone because the man’s voice suddenly got quite distant, but it was obvious he was speaking to someone in the room. Nick prayed it wasn’t Jess. He felt bad for eavesdropping. Dave’s voice sounded slightly tinny - which was probably because he was holding the phone far away from his mouth, but the phone still picked up the entire conversation. 

“Chris…what are you doing?”

“Marge dropped off a welcome home package.”

“Why…we don’t need her homemade crap. So, um…Nick’s on the phone, I’m gonna go upstairs and talk to him.”

“Cool…oh! She included more homemade yogurt!”

“Don’t eat that.”

“Dave…”

“The last time you ate her homemade yogurt, you got the worst food poisoning you’ve ever had.”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“I had to take you to the ER, Chris.”

“I’m sure its fine.”

“Chris…please…”

“Fine, I won’t eat the evil yogurt, okay? She baked cookies too!”

“Fuck…its like living on Little House of the Fucking Prairie.” 

“Take a cookie, Dave.”

“No. Look, I’ll be upstairs.”

“What! No kiss!?”

“Oh…sorry.” Nick could hear the sound of a sloppy kiss being given and then the soft sound of footsteps until Dave’s voice sounded loud and present in Nick’s ear again. 

“Hi Nick, sorry about that.”

“That’s ok. Can you even get food poisoning from yogurt?”

“My husband can - especially when its homemade and the person making it doesn’t know what they’re doing.” 

“Remind me never to eat homemade yogurt.”

“Its generally good advice to take. So, what can I do for you, Nick?”

“Uh…well…I kind of hoped we could talk.”

“Of course. What would you like to talk about?” Nick easily could envision himself lying on a soft leather sofa in a dim office with Dave sitting - legs crossed - in a overstuffed leather chair, observing him what that piercing and inquisitive gaze that Dave seemed to regard everything around him with. Nick swallowed hard. 

“Jess.”

“That’s a pretty big topic, Nick. Is there something specific about Jess you’d like to talk about?”

“Did she tell you what we talked about on Saturday?” 

“Yes - she did. She said she told you about the miscarriage and her depression.” 

“Yeah.”

“And you’re looking for clarity and understanding?” 

“How did you…”

“Because its only natural for you to want those things after hearing what she told you. You had no warning - three days ago, you were maybe harbouring horrible fantasies about being cheated on or who knows what else…and then you’re being told the woman you cared so much for was in crisis. You want to understand what happened - you want to find a place for yourself in all that.” 

“Jesus…you’re good at your job.”

A soft chuckle echoed through the phone. “Thank you. Look, Nick…it might help me to know how you’re feeling. Are you doing okay?”  

“I don’t…honestly, I’m not sure how to describe it.”

“Try. Just tell me what’s going on.”

 “I keep…I keep thinking about being a father.” 

“Ok. That’s understandable.”

“Why though? Why can’t I stop thinking about this…this didn’t happen to me! This happened to Jess…and every time I think about being a dad, all that pops into my head is how sad and lonely Jess must have felt and I feel like I want to rip my hair out because I couldn’t protect her from that!”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. Nick momentarily wondered if Dave had hung up on him, which would make no sense. Then, Dave started talking again.  

“Nick…how would you have protected her? Because there was nothing you could have done - nothing - the miscarriage was a biological act that happened inside Jess’ body. Upwards of twenty percent of pregnancies end in a miscarriage…there isn’t anything we can do to stop them from happening. And the depression…I know that everyone wants to help those of us who deal with depression…maybe by hugging it out of us or loving us so hard that we suddenly just stop being depressed. But it doesn’t work like that - Jess’ brain responded to the loss of her pregnancy on an emotional and a chemical level, which led to her depression. So, please Nick, don’t feel as though you needed to save her or protect her, because chances are you couldn’t. And I wish I could tell you something different, but its the truth.”

“I know…fuck…its just hard.” 

“Of course it is! And what you’re feeling right now…its a loss of identity. You were told, hey you almost becomes a dad, but only almost. Jess experienced the same thing - but she’s had three years to grieve that loss. She’s lived with it for a long time - you haven’t. So as far as you’re concerned, this is all brand new and very fresh and completely foreign to you. So it’s ok to be upset.”

“I…I just…”

“What, Nick?” 

“I want to understand.”

“About what?" 

“What happened? What she went through? Its like, I have these reasons now, but I don’t know if they’re enough!” 

“Why aren’t they enough?”

“I don’t know…but I feel…I feel so separate from everything that happened. And I don’t want to be.”

“I’m probably not the one you want to be talking to, then.” 

“I know…But can you tell me about what it was like for her? What her depression was like?”

“I’m not comfortable talking about her depression without her permission, Nick. That’s deeply personal, I know I wouldn’t want people talking about my depression behind my back. She needs to be the one to tell you about that. I’m sorry…but I could talk about my friendship with her and what she was like when we meet or anything like that - but the details of her depression, you need to go to her. Okay?” 

“Yeah. I’m okay with that.” 

“I met Jess in the hospital, just after she’d miscarried. I don’t usually do rounds or see patients on the floor, I’m a bit more specialized than that, but the psychiatrist who usually does had a family emergency and asked me to cover him. I only saw Jess the once - she was very upset, obviously. But not in a way I expected - I expected tears, those are common - but she didn’t cry. Not once while I was there. She just sat on her bed - silently watching me, not really saying anything. In fact, she barely spoke the whole time I was there. She responded only when I asked her about her family and when I asked about the father of her baby - you. She told me that she thought it was better if you never found out about the miscarriage, which I said was not the best idea - but she clearly didn’t listen to me. It was so clear that she was in a lot of pain. She looked so…sad. It was pretty clear that she was struggling with the miscarriage. But at that moment, she was just a patient to me, one of dozens I would see that night…so I recommended the basic course of treatment: that she be set up with a therapist, be monitored for advanced signs of depression, and consider a course of prescription anti-depressants if needed. Then I left her be - sure that when the regular psychiatrist returned, he’d look after her..”

“Okay - so you didn’t take her on a patient?”

 “No. My practice is fairly specialized - I work with teenagers and adolescents, especially around LGBTQ issues. I have a fairly niche patient base and mostly do research these days - primarily because Portland’s not exactly a major urban hub and there’s not a whole lot of gay kids needing help here. So, its been a while since I did psychiatric rounds in a hospital and I guess I gave her a pretty standard work up. But there was something about her - something about her personality - that haunted me after I left. I just couldn’t get her out of my head. When I met her, it was as though I was expecting this internal light to be shining out of her, but it wasn’t. It was as thought some aspect of her was missing. And I’m a psychiatrist, so I often get the sense that I’m not meeting a whole person - the patients I meet are usually so guarded and hidden behind a wall of pain that I get used to picking up those signs. Normally, when I do I can transition it into something productive - I can allow it to direct the way I treat someone or it can help me understand what’s at the heart of that pain. But not with Jess…with Jess all I could feel was sadness over the loss of this person I imagined her being.”

“I could describe what kind of a person she was…if you want.” 

“Oh…I’ve met her. Don’t worry. But…she was so lost. I remember that when I was sitting there talking to her, she was clutching this blanket…this fucking ugly thing that was covered with pictures of beer steins, I still don’t know what the story is behind that thing. She still has it - Chris threw up on it once after he got drunk on gin martinis at her place one night; she dutifully washed it and it was back on her couch the next day. But it was little touches like that which made me think about her. So, four months after seeing her in the hospital, I called the doctor I was covering for and asked if I could get a phone number or address - I called it a professional follow up thing. He gave me her mom’s address. I went over the next day and the moment I saw her, I knew what I needed to do.”

“What?” 

“Before I get into that, I’m going to tell you a little bit about myself, okay? Are you comfortable with that?”  


“Uh…sure.” Nick was confused, he thought they were talking about Jess.  

“Ok. Its just I can get a little personal, so I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“If I don’t like it, I can ask you to stop, right?”

“Absolutely! Sorry, I have a tendency to talk a lot about my depression - I sometimes forget that other people might get weirded out by it. But…uh…ok, so I suffer from clinical depression, have since I was eighteen and no one knew what was wrong with me…people just thought I was sad. But there was something very wrong with me. I take antidepressants once a day, I see a therapist of my own at least once a week, I often need to take a day off because I still find it hard to get out of bed once in a while, and I’ve tired to hurt myself a number of times over the last twenty years…but not since I left New York almost eight years ago. For many people, there might be an event that sparks major depression - like Jess’ miscarriage - but for others, its just a matter of genetics and brain chemistry and a general disposition, which was the reason for my depression. Nothing overly bad happened to me when I was a teenager - well, unless you count being a gay teenager living in rural Ohio. My depression was what pushed me towards medicine - it was why I wanted to be a psychiatrist, because I wanted to help treat the problem. And that’s what I did - so, I know a lot about depression. 

The last time I had a major episode - one of the last times I thought about hurting myself - was in New York when I was twenty-seven, so ten years ago. I was engaged, but a month before the wedding, I found out that Kyle - that’s his name - had decided that although he wanted to marry me, he really really liked having a lot of sex with men who were not me. After I called off the wedding, I totally disappeared into myself - I took a leave of absence from my residency and just isolated myself in my apartment. I didn’t go outside for almost a month, except to go downstairs to the bodega for food and I barely saw anyone. Until a friend from the hospital figured out the warning signs and showed up at my door - he started forcing me outside. He never made me talk about what was going on, but he made me leave the house. And inch by inch, I started to talk to him…it took me almost a whole year to see the other side of that particular episode, but I did. And I did it because someone was willing to offer help that I didn’t know how to ask for.”

“And Jess…she didn’t know how to ask for the help she needed?”

 “Yes, something like that. I know what depression looks like, Nick. I know the ways it writes itself across someone’s face or body. I know the way someone’s eyes look when they’re in the depths of it - the eyes get this hollow, numb or empty look to them. When you are trapped inside a depressive episode, you look like happiness or optimism are completely vacant from your life. And when I saw Jess the day I walked into her mom’s house, that’s exactly what I saw. So, I took her for coffee. And we sat there - at this irritatingly trendy coffee place filled with the most obnoxious hipsters Portland has to offer - not talking. She didn’t say a word, just sat there drinking an Americano. We did it two days later. And then the day after that and then…well you get it.”

“Yeah. And that made her get better?”

“No. But it started the healing process. It helped her start healing - or make the first steps towards healing. But it’s taken her a long time to get to the point where she was okay enough to confront the thing that sparked her depression.”

“How bad was she, Dave? Like…I guess I’m having such a hard time seeing Jess as someone who would be depressed, she was always so happy.”

“She was bad. But, like I said, I’m not comfortable going into those kinds of details. You need to ask her that - you need to talk to her. All I can tell you is that I helped her and she’s okay, or getting there.”

“It just kills me that she was so alone…and sad.”

“Look, Nick, I don’t want you to dwell on that, okay? Instead, think about how hard she’s worked to get out from under that - think about the fact that she worked to she’d be able to return to LA and see you, talk to you and explain what happened. It was a huge goal for her - and it helped her…you helped her, even without being there.”

Nick sighed and spun Dave’s business card slowly on the table in front of him. He appreciated everything Dave was saying - he appreciated being able to understand more about what had happened to Jess in Portland - or at least knowing a bit of what it had been like for her. But he still felt like there was so much he needed to know and understand.

He got why she was back, but one of the things he didn’t really understand was why she was back permanently. Why wouldn’t she just visit LA - come talk to him, explain what had happened and then go back to the life she’d built for herself in Portland. Why move back to LA? What was she hoping for? 

“Nick? You still there?” Dave’s voice sounded worried. 

Shit. He’d totally blanked out. “Yeah. Sorry, I got lost in thought.”  

“Its okay. Look, Nick, I get the feeling that you still have a lot of questions, but you know that one conversation with Jess isn’t going to just be to answer all your questions, right? You’re going to have to talk to her again.”

Nick nodded, despite knowing that Dave couldn’t see him. But he knew that he next time he spoke to Jess, she’d want to know about where their old friends were, and that would inevitably mean telling her. “I know…guess, I’m just nervous.”

“Well, never having been in this kind of situation, I can’t exactly say what’s normal and what’s not…but I imagine nervous is kind of expected. But I wouldn’t be too nervous, Nick. She wants to talk to you - and it seems like you want to talk to her - so just…talk.”

Nick nearly snorted. Although it was fucking awkward, he and Jess seemed to have no problem talking - they had a lot to say to each other, it was just figuring out how to start talking that seemed to be the biggest hurdle. As well as what inevitably would come after the talking, which right now seemed to be a huge flashing question mark. In some ways, getting to know Jess now was like getting to know this entirely different person, one who had a part of her that was nearly unreachable. He knew his Jess was still in there, but she was slightly clouded by this other person - one who had this a major event hanging over her. One who was three years separate from him, and he knew she probably felt the same about him - she’d even said so herself. Nick had no way of helping her discover the person he was now, except by talking to her; however, Nick did have the chance to learn about the new Jess right now - he was talking to the one person who could help him. So, he took a risk. He decided to try and find out more about this new Jessica Day - the one with the invisible scars. “So…um…you and Jess are good friends?” 

“Are you fishing for details about her, Nick?”

“Um…I…”

“It’s okay if you are, I would be too if I was in your position." 

“Oh. Okay.”

“And to answer your question, yes we are good friends. I don’t particularly like living in Portland, and I don’t have many friends here. But when I met Jess I’d only been here a year, and she and I just seemed to click right off the bat. She made Portland bearable.”

“That seems to happen with her." 

“So I’ve gathered. It became a pretty simple friendship - I was there to help her deal with her depression as a friend, and she was around to keep me from going crazy in this town. When she got stronger and was willing to engage with the world again, she managed to convince me to get out a bit more and do things that I normally wouldn’t do.” 

“Like what?” Nick knew exactly what Dave was talking about - the number of things he’d agreed to just because of Jess’ enthusiasm had been countless. 

“We took a few dance classes, I started doing yoga, I got dragged to a some pottery classes…the list is pretty long. But I needed her to do that for me - I’m not sure if she knows that or not. She became my best friend…she’s helped me a lot, and I’d support her in anything she needed from me.”

“I’m glad. Is she…is she feeling better?” 

“Are you asking if she’s still depressed?” 

“I guess so…”

“Nick…its not like a cold, you don’t just get over it. I’ve lived with it for a long time and I’ll always live with it, and for Jess, chances are it will also always be there. It might lessen - or it might surge up again - but she knows how to ask for help now. She knows what she needs to do. She’s seeing a therapist in LA - an old colleague of mine - and she has a good support system, but that doesn’t mean she’s totally okay.”

“Oh…”

“Look, Nick, I’m not entirely clear on what your intentions are - whether you just want to gain some perspective about what happened, or whether you want a friendship with Jess, or whether you still have feelings for her and want something more…but you need to know that I will protect her. I won’t let anything hurt her or undo the work she’s done over the last three years. But, I will give you some advice…okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you.”

“Be willing to become a part of that support system. If she sees you trying to be as supportive and understanding as possible, she’ll trust you, especially since she doesn’t have as wide a support system in LA as she did here in Portland.”

“I think I can do that.” Nick’s voice sounds much more confident than he felt - he was pretty sure that once he told Jess about Cece, the last thing she would ever do is trust him. 

“Good. But you hurt her…and I’ll destroy you.” Dave’s voice was firm and hard - there was a tone of warning that chilled Nick. In fact, the sheer affection and love that the man obviously feels for Jess was so evident and clear, it almost stung Nick. 

“I never want to hurt her.” And Nick didn’t. He absolutely didn’t…but he knew he was going to. He knew that he was lying to Dave. He knew he was quite probably going to face a very angry Dave after his confession to Jess was out in the open. 

“Good. Oh…hold on Nick…Chris needs me.”

Nick again heard the phone lower as Dave’s voice became distant. He couldn’t hear as much of the conversation as before, but Dave didn’t sound very enthusiastic at whatever was being talked about. He clearly caught Dave saying, “I’m not in the mood for that many hipsters, can’t we just go to a fucking Safeway or Whole fucking Foods!”. Chris’ response, however, was too distant and quiet for Nick to hear. Whatever they were arguing about, it was obviously an old argument. Nick thought back to the number of references he’d heard Dave made about hating Portland since the man had walked into his life two weeks earlier…Nick hoped the two men were okay. 

Before Nick could continue ruminating on Dave’s attitude towards Portland and the obvious argument he was listening to, Dave’s voice was back in his ear. “Hey, sorry Nick, but I should go. Chris wants to go grab some groceries and apparently I get to go and endure a crowd of hipsters.”

“Not a fan of the hipster?”

“No.” Dave’s tone clearly indicated he had no intention of saying more on that topic. Nick just nodded - not wanting to push the issue. “But look, Nick, if you want or need to talk more, I’m happy to. Okay? Honestly. You just have to call.”

“Thanks Dave. And thanks for talking. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, but just promise me you’ll look after her, okay?”

“I will. I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you. Okay, I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Bye Dave…” The line was disconnected before Nick even finished his sentence. He lowered the phone back down to the table and stared at the screen until it went dark. 

Telling Jess about what had happened after she’d left was going to break his promise to Dave, but if he didn’t tell her…if he just pretended that everything was okay and found some effective lie to tell her…it would eat him alive. And if he wanted to reestablish some kind of connection with her…whatever that might be…he knew he would have to come clean. She deserved that. 

He wondered how quickly Dave would call Jess to tell her that they’d talked. He wondered what they would talk about and how long after that until Nick found himself confronted by Jess again. Or should Nick take the initiative this time? Maybe he should be the one picking up the phone and calling her. What did he have to lose? She was here to see him, after all. She’d moved back to LA to see him. Dave had pretty much said that Jess had left everyone and everything that supported her behind in Portland, she had taken a huge risk by coming back to LA - back to him. Which meant that she was willing to work things out - maybe even something as big and awful as his fling with Cece. 

As Nick got up from the table and started towards the bedroom to get ready for work, he found himself actually wondering if he could become a part of Jess’ support system. He wondered if he could one day play as important a roll in her life as Dave…maybe more. Perhaps, all he needed to do was put himself out there - explain himself to her - offer her an olive branch and they could start talking. 

Talking had brought them back together once. It had helped make their relationship nearly unbreakable. Maybe all they needed to do was talk…and maybe Nick could let himself take that first step. 

** —/—**

Hours after Nick and Dave had hung up, Nick was standing behind his bar, idly mixing a few drinks for some rather tipsy fashion models, he’d been feeling an odd mixture of optimism and fear all night. He was sure now, completely sure, that he could do this. He could face Jess…he could come clean…and he could beg for forgiveness. And he’d realized, quite suddenly, that he and Jess didn’t need to face all this alone. They both could turn to Dave for help - the man was obviously willing, all Nick needed to do was ask. And the first step towards making things better would be through talking. He knew he and Jess needed to talk more. And he was damn sure that if they were going to move forward as…whatever…that he needed to come just as clean as she had, but he hoped that with Dave’s help all this wouldn’t turn out as horribly as he’d envisioned. Nick knew that after he confessed his sins to Jess, that Dave would inevitably be called on, and Nick hoped that he’d be able to convince the man for help. 

As Nick was pouring out a couple of Heavenly Dips, and starting to script exactly how he would tell Jess the truth, that a horrifying realization struck him. 

He had no idea how to actually get in touch with Jess…unless it was through Dave. 

He had no phone number, email address, regular address…nothing…but she did. She knew where he worked - he thought so anyways - and she knew where he lived. Suddenly, he couldn’t really plan their next talk, because he wasn’t in control of it. It was entirely up to her when it would happen. 

Unless he asked Dave for help. But would he? Or was there a reason for Nick’s lack of information…did she want him to have to wait for her? 

Shit.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vesper Martini (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vesper_(cocktail))
> 
> Jess will play a much larger role in chapters to come, but this time I wanted Nick to start confronting everything he now knows and I wanted to give Dave a little time in the spotlight.


	10. Chapter 9 - Harrogate Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes talking...it's painful.

Nick had never really understood what people meant when they said t’hey were sitting on pins and needles’ until now, but somehow the awful anxiety of waiting for Jess to make a move - any move - was one of the most painful experiences of his life. Once he discovered that he actually had no way of getting in touch with Jess, Nick had searched high and low for anything that might lead him to her - he certainly didn’t have her phone number, and all he knew about where she lived was a street name - Cold Water Canyon - but, short of driving aimlessly up and down her street on the off chance that he might run into her, he was was completely stuck. He had no work address for her - although he did contemplate calling her old school to see if she’d gotten her old job back. He had, however, found her on Facebook, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to send a friend request - it seemed too…personal or forward…somehow. So, he was stuck…completely unsure of what to do next. The only way for him to get in touch with Jess was by calling Dave and asking the guy to deliver a message. 

Which was something that Nick had not done. He’d picked up the phone a few times - thinking about calling and asking for help - but something stopped him. Yes, he wanted to be the one to make the move this time - he wanted to be the one initiate their next encounter - but he didn’t want it to be through Dave. He just wanted it to be him and Jess - he didn’t want to force Dave’s involvement. However, not having any way to contact her was throwing a rather enormous wrench into his plan. 

Which in the end meant that Nick had gone two weeks without seeing Jess. Two very long weeks, because over that time he had blown Jess’ inevitable reaction to what he had to tell her completely out of proportion. In his head, the moment he uttered the words ‘Cece and I slept together’, Jess was going to simply walk out of his life altogether - forever - without so much as a second thought. And, Nick had pretty much conceded, Jess was totally in her right to do exactly that. Fuck, while she was dealing with the loss of her pregnancy and struggling against a tidal wave of depression, Nick had been routinely having some really nasty and dirty sex with her best friend. 

He deserved whatever punishment she decided to throw at him. 

Undoubtedly, his fantasy of her reaction, mixed with the apprehension he felt about telling her, was probably the central reason for this ridiculous stalemate - it certainly was the reason behind his inability to pick up the phone and ask for Dave’s help. What didn't make sense, however, was why she also wasn’t getting in touch with him. Sure, his inability to pick up the phone and try to reach out to her was understandable - at least to him - but why had she been so silent and absent for the past two weeks? When she had left his apartment almost two weeks ago, after seeing each other for the first time in three years, he’d gotten the impression that she wanted to see more of him. That she wanted to talk to him more…that she had questions she wanted answered.

After four days, he realized that maybe she also had no way of getting in touch with him either. He was certain that she didn't have his cell number - and if she tried calling his old number, she’d find herself on the end of a wrong number since he’d changed it long ago. She did know where he lived, but Jess had never been the kind of person to just brazenly show up at someone’s door. The final option was The BarRail - but did she even know where the bar was, or that that The BarRail was the name of his bar. But Dave knew about the bar - which meant that she had to know about it too, right? And if that was the case, would she show up at the bar? Would she come to the bar one night? He really hoped so. 

And that hope was really all that Nick had to hold onto, because he had absolutely nothing else to grasp onto - nothing tangible. Nick had spent the last two weeks alternatively thinking about what he was going to say to Jess about Cece (and her reaction) or thinking about everything she had confessed to him about Portland, the miscarriage and her depression. At first, he had struggled with whether he actually wanted to see her again. He had worried that the hurt and grief he’d felt that Saturday would just fester and grow - that he would almost drown in it. But in the end, his talk with Dave had helped - Nick was sure now, one hundred percent sure, that this was not something Jess had done to cause him harm. She had not set out to hurt him - but her actions were the byproduct of a seemingly crushing depression that he could barely fathom. And he knew that the best thing for them - for him at least - would be to talk. It had to be.

After two weeks of thinking about everything, Nick Miller was really ready to commit to talking. 

He knew that talking to her would help. It would help alleviate the fears they probably were both harbouring. It would only help them deal with the grief and hurt they were both feeling - especially his, since the news still was so raw and fresh. Talking had helped them so often in the past. After getting back together, they had made a promise to talk to each other about anything that was bothering them in their relationship. That promise had helped them work out some of their biggest problems: when she had started to worry that they had nothing in common, they had talked about it and had actually done something. They had started to find things to do together, while always making time for their own lives. They had found compromises that worked - refusing to let everything get so big that they couldn’t work it out. Talking to each other had let them defuse the worst situations long before they got so bad that they exploded. And the only time that promise had broken down was when Jess had gone to Portland, but he could understand why. She didn’t know how to talk to him about what had happened to her - she had retreated into herself, isolating herself, and no amount of promises could have helped her escape that. She needed to find her own way out of that sadness…and as much as he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her, he understood. 

But it was that promise that they’d made so long ago that made him want to talk to her again. He was sure that they could recreate that connection again. And by doing so, they could work out everything - including his affair with Cece. He had spent so much time over the last two weeks thinking about them - about how easy it had been to talk to each other - and all the problems they had worked out that he was certain that if she just gave him (them) a chance to talk…or she might just slap his face off and walk out of his life. 

He seemed to oscillate between the two reactions. 

And as much as hopeful as he was, he was still terrified of what was to come. He was terrified of having that talk. 

Of course, he needed to actually see Jess - get in touch with her - before he could actually start having that conversation. 

However, because he was having some fucking difficulty doing just that, Nick had fallen into old patterns, which mostly meant attempting to disappear into something safe and comfortable - work. The Bar. And right now, he really wanted to focus on work - he wanted the business of the bar, the hectic nature of tending bar, dealing with his employees, monitoring sales…all of that… he wanted to be busy. The busier the better. But, despite it being the weekend - the busiest time of the week - his brain just would not focus on work. His brain was refusing to let him disappear into his bar. Which was bullshit! Especially since tonight was Sunday, his favourite night. The din of the bar on a Sunday night was comforting…it was normally reassuring to have this many people surrounding him - strangers that became family just by walking in the door - his door. They were all here for one reason - to drink his drinks. And anyone walking in the door and ordering even one drink, was reason for him to love them. They were the ones who made his bar a success. Plus, the more they drank, the more money he made…and the more they drank, the louder it got, which should mean that he’d be unable to hear his own thoughts. 

And that’s a good thing…normally. And he should be able to let the noise of the bar - the sound of models and lawyers and actors and TV writers…celebs - completely distract him, but it just wasn’t working. Because right now, his thoughts seemed stuck on everything Jess and Dave had told him. His mind was kept traveling back three years - constantly thinking about whether he had missed something about Jess - some sign that she was pregnant. Or some sigh that the horrible event that changed their lives was on its way. But there was nothing. No morning sickness. No bloating. No mood swings…nothing that he associated with pregnancy. Which made him feel even more useless. He hadn’t even been able to tell that Jess was carrying his child…he’d been so wrapped up in his plan, his grand plan, that he hadn’t noticed anything different about her. 

But he didn’t want to focus on that. He didn’t want to keep thinking about pregnancies and miscarriages and how horrible he felt over Jess’ depression. How sad he was that he’d not been there for her. 

How disgusting he felt that he was fucking Cece while all that was happening. 

Two weeks ago, Nick’s life had completely changed. And now it felt like he was stuck in some kind of emotional groundhog’s day where he was destined to relive the same emotional roller coaster for the rest of his life. And he knew the only way he was going to get off that fucking roller coaster - he could call it the Emotional Cyclone - was by talking to Jess. 

Nick grunted as he sorted out some credit card receipts that had not been filed properly from the night before - his fuck up since he’d been working bar last night. He longed for the comfort of just focusing on work. He longed for long days spent playing with his spreadsheets and bank balances. And sure, he’d managed to do some of that over the last fourteen days, but not as solidly as he would have liked. 

After Jess left his condo, he'd treated himself to an entire day’s pity party - highly unusual for him - but then he got back to work. And he’d put up this public facade of being utterly focused on work - barely talking to anyone unless it had something to do with work, crafting and taking notes for new cocktails, spending days holed up in his office double checking his spreadsheets and even managing to hire a couple new burlesque dancers for Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. So far, he’d managed to avoid being at home for more than a few hours at a time - enough to get a bit of sleep, a bite of food, and a quick shower and then, the rest of the time, he’d been at The BarRail. 

He’d let that cold, businesslike and impersonal public persona fall back into place - personable only to those who wanted to buy a drink from him.

Charlie had tried to talk to him about what happened with Jess, but he’d simply told her that they had talked and were working it out - not a complete lie. But he’d made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about the details - no matter how much he trusted her. Since then, any time she’d brought it up, he just snapped at her. Eventually, she’d given up. And he liked that - he needed that - he didn’t want to rehash the talk with anyone…unless that person was Jess. But he could feel that facade starting to break. He knew he was making mistakes - forgetting to file receipts, not pouring drinks properly, snapping at his employees…eventually all of this was going to catch up to him and he was going to break. 

Maybe he would just call Dave tomorrow morning and ask for Jess’ number. Just get it over with - rip the fucking bandaid off!  

But tonight…Sunday…was his favourite night…he was determined to enjoy the satisfying drain of work, the excited chatter of the people around him, the ecstatic look on their faces as they sipped his drinks. Yeah…he was going to try his damnedest to enjoy himself. Sunday was his favourite night because it was the most laid back night of the week at The BarRail. It was The BarRail’s famous pyjama night, where the staff and the patrons were allowed to drop the usual dress code and dress in their most casual clothes - especially sleep or lounge wear. Nick had originally stolen the idea from from New York’s Employees Only, after reading a review of the bar and how big of a success their pyjama nights were. So far, the night had proven to be just as a huge success for The BarRail. Nick almost always worked Sundays - he liked the atmosphere and the chance to discard his suits for a night. In fact, ever since he had decided to adopt pyjama night, he’d amassed a rather impressive collection of various lounge wear - everything from vintage pyjamas that were appropriate for a 1920s themed bar, as well as deep velvet smoking jackets that he often wore with silk pyjama bottoms.  

This week, however, Nick had gone for sexy sleepwear, he was dressed in only a pair of dark blue silk pyjama bottoms. He had also thrown on a short sleeveless black robe that he had knotted loosely around his waist - letting the robe fall open slightly to give off a very generous view of his well defined chest and stomach. He figured that if he wanted put on a little bit of a show, he could easily lose the robe. The whole outfit was designed to give off an air of leisure,  fun and sex. Plus, the lack of sleeves meant that he could show off his arms, which often attracted attention…and the robe also did wonders in showing off his muscular chest. 

He’d worked hard over the last three years to build himself a body worthy of having a bar on Sunset Boulevard, so he was going to fucking flaunt it.  

Despite the fact that he had really taken pains with his outfit for the evening, nothing about this week’s pyjama night felt normal. Usually, this was a night where he’d be enjoying himself and having a bit of fun. Sundays were all all about celebrating - most weeks, he would chat with the other bartenders, indulging in a few celebratory shots, or sending an occasional drink over to Charlie, or even flirting with a customer or two. But not tonight. Tonight, Nick’s desperate need to disappear into the noise of the bar was preempting all of that. He just wasn’t enjoying himself. And what was worse, he just seem unable to dissolve into the bar and its distraction. Work was supposed to nurture him…distract him from the world around him. But it wasn’t. Instead, it felt like every drink he poured was only reinforcing all the things that he wanted to escape. Every cocktail shaker he shook just reminded of what he had lost…what he had missed…of a life unlived. It felt like every slosh of gin or vodka in a glass only reminded him that for three years he and Jess had been separated by…by something horrible. And he hated it. He hated that the answers he’d gotten had only made him so incredibly sad. All of this…everything - the hurt, the horrible way his closest friendships had ended, his obsession with work, the insurmountable rift he felt with Jess - it it felt oppressive. And he wanted to fix it. 

Once upon a time, Nick had believed that all it took to fix something was a good amount of duct take and a little prayer, except for relationships - relationships were the one thing he couldn’t fix. He had no tools to properly fix a relationship - there was no such thing as emotional duct tape. Which was why he had felt as though every relationship he’d ever had - until Jess - was perpetually doomed, because he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He just did things and sometimes it worked out and sometimes he found himself dumped. But then…Jess had happened. And things had worked…then he’d fucked up…but then he did the impossible. He fixed things. That morning so many years ago - that amazingly awesome morning - when he finally told her how he felt…he had fixed something. He had fixed them and brought them back together. And now…now he wanted to do it all over again. 

But even more than that, he wished he could rewind time…just spin the dial back…and go back to that day when she had left him. He would treat the whole thing differently, he would go to Portland, but this time he wouldn’t take no for an answer - he would have stayed. He would have helped her. He would have done anything in the world to know that he loved her and that he wanted to be with her. He would have moved fucking mountains to fix them…to protect the most precious thing in his life.

Nick sighed as he started mixing his version of an Harrogate Night, which he made with cinnamon schnapps and spiced rum so that the drink felt like an aggressive experience when you were drinking it, a remarkable change from the the overly sweet traditional versions he saw on so many bars’ menus. He was making the drinks for a couple of B-list TV actors that had taken up residence at one of the smaller booths along the wall right across from the bar. He’d watched them eying a few of the fashion models sitting at one of the low tables not far from the booth. He felt like sending a note, along with their drinks, informing them of their rather poor chances. 

He was so involved in mixing the cocktails and watching the two actors that he barely noticed her until he felt a hand on his arm. He practically jumped in surprise. His eyes snapped around the bar, before they landed on the person standing right in front of him - on the other side of the bar. His breath caught in his throat.  

Jess was standing in front of him, smiling shyly. 

“Hi Nick. Sorry I scared you.”

“Jess…what are you doing here?” He had not expected this tonight in the least. Of course he had certainly hoped that she would show up, that she would make the move that he so badly wanted to make…and as usual he was right in thinking that she would. She was always the braver of the two of them. He had spent almost two weeks thinking about what he was going to say to her - how he was going to respond when they saw each other again - and suddenly he had no idea what to do. 

But, holy fuck, Jessica Day was in The BarRail…this was like one of his favourite fantasies.  

She shrugged. “I wanted to come see you. I wanted to see your bar. I hope that’s ok.”

“Oh…well…uh…yeah! Of course it is. Sorry…” He took a breath. He couldn’t deny the warm rush of emotion that pumped into his chest at the sight of her standing there. He had always wondered what she would think of The BarRail - would she hate it, would she like the whimsy behind the idea, would she laugh at his attempts to be so hip. Or, would she love it. Right now, he really wanted her to love it. He gave her a small smile back - one filled with shaky confidence. “Hi.”

She sighed - almost relieved that he wasn’t tossing her out on her ass - and he watched as her smile gained a little more confidence. “Hi.”

He took a second - composed himself. He was totally prepared for this - he’d been visualizing it for ages. he could handle talking to her…in his bar. Drinking his drinks…He had to handle this. And he could. He knew he could! 

“Uh…so this is The BarRail - my bar.”

“I like it…it's fancy. I almost feel like some prohibition agents are going to come busting into the place.”

“Thanks…I uh…I like it.” Nick internally kicked himself - why was he acting like a dumbstruck teenager. He coughed nervously. “I…uh…I’ve thought about hiring some actors to pretend bust the place up…maybe on the 100th anniversary of Prohibition or something.”

She smiled. He could tell that his stupid idea was appealing to her imagination. She nodded in approval. Then, her voice dropping slightly, “So…do you always tend bar in your pyjamas and robe? Or did you just not have time to do laundry today?” He watched as her eyes moved slowly over his exposed parts of his chest and arms. She looked amused and impressed. He found himself instinctively flexing slightly. He knew that she probably was completely shocked at his appearance - but she knew nothing about his health problems three years ago, or about his crazed plan about completely changing his image to match the sexiness of the bar.

“What? Oh! No, its pyjama night…I do it weekly - people love it.”

“I can tell.” She nodded behind her, where people were clearly enjoying themselves. He noticed one woman, clearly inebriated, almost dancing on a table, dressed in nothing but a negligee. He’d have to keep an eye on that one. He waved over one of his servers, handing off the drinks for the TV actors and making sure the tired looking waiter was aware of dancing lady. 

He sighed as he watched the waiter try to get the woman to get off the table, it wasn’t going well. “It can get a little nuts in here. But we try to keep it clean…people get kicked out otherwise.”

Her eyes followed his, a look of surprise coming over her face as she watched the poor waiter actually lift the woman up off the table and manoeuvre her towards the washroom. Jess turned back to him, “You run a tight ship here, Miller?” Her voice had a light teasing tone and she tried to give him her most effective joking smile. But behind the teasing, he detected a waver - it was obvious that she was nervous, but was desperately trying to hide it from him. 

He nodded and returned her smile - trying to hide his own nerves - but he was pretty sure he couldn’t be any more apparent if he was wearing a neon sigh that said ‘NERVOUS’ around his neck. “I guess so…some nights, I can’t do a damn thing. But most of the time we’re on top of stuff like that.”

“You always were good at dealing with the troublemakers.”

“I usually was one of the troublemakers!”

“You did have a knack for being bad…” She blushed slightly. He knew exactly what she was talking about - he could feel the swell of attraction in his stomach - and all he wanted to do was reach out and touch her. 

He cleared his throat and looked down at the bar. “Um…so I’m sorry I haven’t called or anything…but I actually didn’t have any ways to get in touch with you.”

“Oh! I thought you did…oh! I’m so sorry…I figured that maybe Dave had given it to you or that maybe I’d forgotten that I gave you my number. Darn! I’m sorry. And, really Nick, it’s okay! Really…I laid some heavy stuff on you. I’d be a bit crazy to think that you would call the next day. I figured that I hadn’t heard from you because you just needed some time to think.”

“Yeah…well, that’s all I’ve been doing - thinking, that is. I can’t stop thinking about everything you told me. And Jess…” His voice suddenly sounded really heavy - like he was on the verge of tears. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m so sorry…for everything that’s happened. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard all of it was for you…fuck…Jess, I wish I could just…I don’t know. But I want you to know I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you were hurting…are hurting…and if I can do something to help, I will.” He had so much else to say - it felt like his chest was bursting with all the things he’d been thinking about since he saw her last. He suddenly found himself fighting the uncontrollable urge to just grab Jess and run out of the bar so he could find a quiet spot to tell her all the things he needed to. 

His hand was shaking. He grabbed a lime and started rolling it around on the bar - something to try and occupy himself from the word vomit that was building in his throat. 

He almost flinched when Jess’ hand suddenly was covering his, stopping his frantic movements with the lime. “Nick…its okay. Really, it is. Thank you, though, for offering to help me, it means a lot. God, Nick…I wish I could somehow make this better. I don’t want to make you upset, I really don’t.”

“Thank you. I don’t think you can prevent it - this is all still pretty fresh and new for me. It’s going to take some getting used to. I wish I could just…I don’t know…”

“Okay…stop, Nick. Stop. This might not be the best time to…uh…get into all this. We can do that soon. But, you’re at work and I don’t want to upset you…so, how about I have a drink and, if you can, you tell me about your bar or something…or if you really want we can talk.” She let go of his hand and reached out for one of the little clip boards that acted as the bar’s cocktail menu. 

He smiled - a drink. Making a drink, yeah that was perfect…oh fuck. All at once it hit him. 

She was going to see the cocktail list. 

She was going to see her name on the list. She was…oh fuck!

He watched her in dumb silence as her eyes moved across the words on the page. He saw them grow large as she hit item number four. Her eyes shifted away from the page and met his. 

“Oh, Nick…” She looked surprised and sad all at once. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down slightly as though to stop herself from crying. “I…I had no idea.”

“Jess…I…” He had a slight panicked tone as he stumbled over his words. He knew she would read all kinds of things into this. Because it was crazy…she was going to think he was crazy. Because, he was. He really was crazy…what the fuck had he been thinking!

“You named a drink after me?”

“No…well…uh…yes…” He had no idea what to say…sadly, his brain seemed to be on autopilot, because what came out next was certainly not what he wanted to tell her. “But not just a drink.”

“What? You named food after me too…I’ll be insulted if its anything less than steak!”

He smiled - gratefully - at her vain attempt to make this seem humorous. But all the same, he wanted nothing more than to just turn around and run into his office and never show his face again. He felt like he might throw up or pee his pants. Instead, he just shook his head and let his stupid brain just run with the situation.“No…fuck…this is awkward. I wanted to tell you…shit.”

“Nick…what is it?”  Her hand moved almost stealthily across the bar to settle on his again, only this time giving him a gentle and reassuring squeeze, which sent a flood of warmth across his hand and up his forearm. He nearly whimpered. 

His mouth had suddenly gone very dry. This was like telling someone you had named a child after them…which, he supposed, it actually was. He sucked in a breath and very quietly said, “It’s the drink. Jess…that drink is what made this place successful. It’s my most popular…its what I based the whole menu, the whole concept on! Fuck, it even won an award.”

“A drink named after me won an award? I feel like there should be a joke in there…something about knowing that I always tasted award winning…” Her voice had an incredulous tone to it. 

“Yes, well…no arguments from me on that on. Oh…fuck…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t…” He felt himself go bright red. What the fuck is wrong with him! A horrible joke about oral sex…fuck fuck…He was full on blushing now. He was embarrassed. In all his fantasies about this moment, he’d never actually envisioned her coming into his bar and seeing the drink. He’d certainly never thought he would have to explain. And he sure as fuck never thought he would be sitting here talking about the drink and making off colour jokes…he groaned. He felt so awkward and unsure of himself - a sensation that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’m going to let that one slide, okay?”

“Please do…thank you.”

“Ok…so I need to ask, why did you name it after me?”  

He swallowed thickly. He had two choices here. He could lie - he could just tell her that he thought it would be a funny joke. Like an inside joke with friends - but which friends, exactly? He could say that it didn’t mean anything at all…that it was just a name. Nothing impressive. That would be the easy way out. The man he’d once been would do exactly that. And he could feel the lie sitting heavily on his tongue - a few simple sentences to make her blush and laugh at him for thinking so highly of her. But he damn well knew that she would never believe him, not after his reaction to her seeing the drink on the menu - he’d already given himself away. Plus, he was pretty sure that even three years apart, she still knew him better than that. But the other option, well that option scared him shitless. Because the other option was to tell her the truth - tell her about how the drink had practically rendered him dumb and mute at how much it made him think of her. Tell her truth about how every time he made one he thought about her. Tell her truth and …and run the risk of…of what exactly? Of her walking out of the bar and not speaking to him again? Cause that had already happened to him once and he’d survived it. Or at least he hoped he had. And who knows, maybe this time it would be better because he just wasn’t as emotionally involved. Which almost made him choke with laughter at the idea. Or maybe he’d run the risk of…letting her know how badly she’d hurt him and how much he still felt for her.

As much as his self preservation instinct might want him to just lie and move on with his night, he knew he couldn’t. He didn’t want to lie. Not after everything she’d told him two Saturdays ago. Plus, he knew his brain was already on autopilot and was going to do whatever it wanted to do…

Which meant he was going with option B. 

“Because the first time I made it and tasted it…it reminded me so much of you. All I could think about was you and how much I love…loved..you. It was all citrus and fresh with the right amount of gin…it was just you. ” He said it in a rush of breath - almost terrified of the words coming out of his mouth. And he hated that even now - after three long years - she still had this ability. The ability to make him scared of his own feelings. 

He watched as her other hand slowly drifted to her face. A look of something…sadness, happiness, surprise…entered her eyes. He sometimes forgot how expressive those eyes could be. 

After a long moment of them staring at each other, she spoke. Her voice, soft, barely audible over the din of the bar, asked, “Will you make me one?”

He’d been expecting some other response - maybe chastising him for putting so much weight on their relationship and on her. Or sympathy for his obvious inability to get over her. But this was…almost a kind of reserved understanding of what the drink meant to him. He really felt like crying now. 

“Of course.” He gestured down to where her hand was covering his. “I’ll need my hand back.”

“Oh…right…sorry.” She blushed and pulled back, folding her hands together on the bar. He immediately missed the warmth - a warmth that seemed to linger long after she was no longer touching him. It was a warmth that had filled his entire arm, spreading easily into his chest. He could feel himself wanting to grab her hand back and return it to his forearm again. 

Fuck…what was wrong with him. He was letting those buried feelings for Jess explode - he was letting himself fall, and there was no way for him to know if her actions towards him meant anything more than her remembering how much she had loved him once. This couldn’t end well. Just having her here - looking at him, talking to him, touching him - it was setting his skin, his nerves, his brain aflame. His heart was thudding in his chest. 

No. He had to swallow this. He couldn’t let himself feel this way - not now. Not ever. Jessica Day was his past - even if she was sitting right across from him. And his past stayed where it was meant to stay - the past. They would never work out anyways - not after everything. Not after all they had done to each other. He would just make a drink for her, they would chat…and then she would leave. 

And maybe if he kept telling himself all that, he might actually start believing it. Yeah, fucking, right.

He gave her a shaky smile as he started making the drink. 

Gin. 

Infused simple syrup

A generous splash of grapefruit juice

Shaken over ice - making sure to do a little areal theatrics by dramatically tossing the shaker around. There’s nothing wrong with a little showmanship, right? And he certainly noticed the way her eyes followed his hands as the shaker flew between them. 

He gave her his patented ‘I’m a fancy ass mixologist’ grin. He really liked the way it made her smile. 

Holding the cocktail shaker aloft, he pulled the top off and strained the icy cold liquid into a chilled rocks glass - making sure that the liquid drained out of the shaker in a long looping arch.  

A dollop of egg white - also freshly beaten.

Garnish with a wedge of grapefruit.

He placed the glass in front of her with a slight flourish, giving her his best master mixologist look. She picked up the glass, smelling it. His mouth went dry in anticipation of watching her drink it. For months after designing the drink, he’d fantasized about watching this moment - the moment when Jess first tasted this drink. He’d wondered what her face would look like. Would her pupils dilate? Would her lips pucker? Would she looked surprised? Happy? Horrified? And suddenly he was going to watch it. As he watched her lift the glass slowly to her lips, he found he could barely breathe. But then, she put the glass back down. 

Huh?

“Will you have one with me?”

Unsurprisingly, Nick could remember the very last drink they had shared together - one that wasn’t water or coffee - it had been the night before she’d left for Portland. A glass of red wine. They’d been sitting on their bed - effectively ignoring Schmidt and Winston, who were watching some stupid comedy in the living room. Nick had picked up some wine on the way home from his afternoon shift at Clyde’s and they’d ordered in Thai food, deciding to eat it in their room. 

He could remember how the smell of Pad Thai and deep fried spring rolls hand lingered in the room long after the leftovers had been packed away. And he could remember how comfortably they had sat next to each other, his fingers lazily tracing circles on her thigh, as they sipped from miss-matched glasses filled with not overly bad wine that he’d grabbed at Safeway. And he remembered how they’d talked about what neighbourhood they’d wanted to move into and how she promised to look at any apartment ads he wanted to forward her while she was gone. He also remembered the heated, almost frantic sex they’d had that night - the way it felt like he needed to physically express every last emotion, desire and ounce of love that he felt for her and how it had so distinctly felt like she had been doing the same. 

Then, after that phone call and harried trip to Portland, he had slowly resigned himself to never having another drink with her again. And yet, here they were, about to do just that. 

In the split second between her asking him to have a drink with him and starting to make that drink, his brain flashed back to that night - the wine, the food, the sex - all of it felt so unreal now. And for the barest of seconds, Nick pondered on the glasses of red wine she’d sipped…had that…god, what if that had caused…

No. He pushed the thought to the back of his brain, not willing to go there, not now. And instead, he set to work on the drink. Moments later, he held up a second glass. 

“To…uh…” He was at a loss. 

She lifted her glass up. “To you, Nick Miller. To you.” She touched the brim of her glass to his. And then took her first sip. He hesitated a moment - he needed to watch. Her face changed ever so slightly - a look of confusion as the gin and tart grapefruit juice hit her, which then transformed to surprise as the sweetness of the syrup laced with even more grapefruit juice superseded the tartness. Her pupils did indeed dilate - a look of complete awe spreading over her face. 

Fuck…this was more amazing than he’d ever imagined. 

She slowly set the glass back down and lifted her eyes to his, the look of awe lingering on her face. He sipped his own drink slowly. Watching the reaction on her face had pretty much ruined watching anyone ever react to that drink again. Nothing would ever look as good or as beautiful…he wished he could go back and watch it again and again. He gave her a slight nod.

“Nick…this is amazing.”

He ducked his head slightly. “Thanks.”

“No…really…this is so good!”

“I…I don’t know what to say, Jess.”

“Guess those mixology classes worked out, huh?”

“Yeah. Who knew I had a hidden talent.”

She shook her head and she picked up the menu again, scanning it. “All of these…you created them?”

“Yeah - all the signature cocktails. All came out of this pigheaded brain of mine.” He tapped the side of his head. “Its really weird, but after I learned about mixology, it was like I could just envision what to do - I just knew what would go well together. I’m good at this.”

She held up her glass again, smiling, and taking another sip. “Yes…yes you are! And I have to admit - I had no idea I tasted like this…that I taste this good.” Her face suddenly paled as she realized what she had said. “Damn…that was my turn to say something bad! I’m sorry.”

He licked his lips - a sudden and very visceral memory flooding his brain. He nodded mutely - not daring to speak, certain that he’d say something he’d regret. Nick felt incredibly awkward - he was completely unsure of how to act. He couldn’t treat her like she was just another bar patron, because she wasn’t. But she also wasn’t like just some regular VIP either. He wanted to give her everything - the free drinks, the private booth, the personal server…everything. Jessica Day was so much more than just a person sitting at his bar…she was the most important person to ever walk through the door to that bar.  

“So…” Jess cocked her head to the side slightly, her hair falling slightly over her shoulder. Her face had that same open, questioning expression he had grown so used to throughout their relationship. “…are you okay talking now, or do you need to run off and be the big bar owner boss man?”

Despite being grateful for the opportunity to flee, he found himself quite unable to leave her presence. “Um…depends I suppose.”

“Depends on what?”

“How busy it gets…if anyone needs me…what you want to talk about.”

She played nervously with the glass, twirling it slowly between her hands. “Well, okay, I know I said that I didn’t want to bother you with the super serious talk, but…I’m not sure we can just talk about the weather or what we ate for lunch today…but you could tell me about the bar, if you like.”

“Yeah. I know. I really can’t do a major talk here. This is my bar, Jess, you can’t expect me to have some kind of in-depth talk about everything that’s happened here…I’m sorry.” A pang of guilt shot through him, he wanted to talk, but the idea of doing that here - standing at his bar - it felt wrong somehow. To cover his worry, he gestured towards the rest of the bar. “But I can tell you about the bar…”

“No. Oh, of course not, Nick…but I want to talk. There’s a lot we still need to discuss. I need to know  what happened after I left. But lets…pause that talk, okay. ”

Nick nodded. He knew he couldn’t avoid telling her now - now that she was here, asking him for answers. He owed her an explanation just as much as she had owed him one. But he still hated the idea that this conversation was coming - he hated that he would have to break her heart. He just didn’t want to deal with it - he wanted to take the pain that was coming and lock it away. But at least he had managed to grant himself a stay of execution. 

He leaned forward, trying hard to affect a nonchalant manner - as though he was just a regular old barkeep, entertaining a pretty patron - fuck, even in his head that sounded so lame. He frowned down at the bar. This was hard. This was too hard. He couldn’t do this…he just couldn’t. He didn’t know how. How was he supposed to just be all normal and at ease with her. It used to be so easy - she’d been his whole world, and he’d never had trouble talking to her or showing her how much he loved her. From the way he treated her like she was the most important thing in the world every single day to the way he had easily settled into a relationship with her. Everything about him had changed the moment she became his girlfriend - he had changed. He had opened up and embraced that relationship in a way he’d never thought he could. And talking to her had just been…natural and simple. 

 But now, he felt like he had had no idea how to talk to her. Partly because they had been apart for so long, but also partly because this huge thing was still hanging over their heads and he didn’t know how to get out from under it. 

“Nick?” 

He snapped back to attention - he’d managed to completely zone out. “Sorry.” He blushed. Fuck…it felt like they were in some awful merry-go-round where they just kept apologizing to each other and blushing. “I guess I’m having trouble figuring out what to say to you.”

“I know. I don’t know how to make this better, Nick. I wish I did.”

“I wish…I…”

“What, Nick?”

“I wish I could just skip over all this awkwardness and awfulness and…I don’t know what, exactly. But I don’t want to deal with the bad stuff anymore.” As he talked, he knew he sounded ridiculous and delusional. Like he was some idiot who couldn’t handle the rough stuff and just wanted to live in some kind of paradise. He frowned, displeased at himself.  

Jess was nodding. “As nice as that would be, I don’t think we can do that. There’s too much to talk about.”

“Ok - let’s talk…” 

“Ok. When would be okay?”

Nick glanced at his watch - it was already eleven thirty. On Sundays, he sometimes worked until twelve or one, leaving Charlie and the other bar-tenders to handle closing. He normally hated doing that - especially when Pyjama Night was as busy as tonight’s seemed to be, but he knew he had to let this…let Jess…come first. “Do you want to talk tonight?”

She looked relieved. “Well…do you have time? I’ve felt a bit out of sorts - on edge - like I want to get it all out in the open and just talk.”

“Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. Cause, normally, I’d be more than happy just talking about the bar - it is my favourite subject - but I feel like I’m at a loss for words.”

“Me too…which is you know…”

“Surprising? Unnatural?” He finished for her. 

She nodded and gave his hand another gentle squeeze. “Let’s go with unnatural - I am a talker, after all.”

“I know…no complaints from me.”

“Liar! You complained all the time!”

“But I only ever half meant it.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you complain about how much I talk.”

“Maybe I won’t complain about it ever again. Maybe I’ll just sit by and let you go…”

“Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“I have great will power.”

“Even when I start talking about yarn for hours?”

“I’ll just sit there, smiling.”

Suddenly, they both realized that they had drifted gradually closer together, and were barely inches apart - kissing distance. Nick swallowed thickly and pulled back, even though every molecule in his body wanted to close that distance and kiss her. He watched as she slowly licked her lips - he knew that move, he had memorized it, it was one of those tiny little involuntary moves that told him she wanted to kiss him too. But he couldn’t - he didn’t know what they were yet. And they couldn’t do a damn thing until all the cards were on the table. 

So he backed off. His face was burning with both embarrassment and desire. He smiled shyly. 

He glanced back around the bar - needing a distraction. The table top dancing woman was back, this time demurely sitting and sipping a glass of wine; the two TV actors had disappeared, leaving a small mess of bar snacks and half drunken glasses on their table. The bar was full - very full - it had to be nearly at capacity, which meant more than enough work for the servers and the bartenders. Of course, that usually also meant that there was a lot for him to do - he really should be circulating, checking to make sure people were having fun, or working the bar with the other guys or at the very least, checking on any VIPS. 

Or he could skip out on all that and drag Jess away from here, find a spot - not too secluded, in case she tried to kill him when he told her about Cece - and talk. 

He turned back to Jess, she still had a slight embarrassed smile on her face. It was clear that their…moment had impacted her just as much as it did him. He was about to suggest just leaving the bar, when he noticed the frantic way that Charlie was waving to him from the other end of the room. Something was up. And it was clearly not something he was going to particularly enjoy. He breathed an irritated sigh. He saw a look of concern pass over Jess’ face.

“You okay, Nick?”

He nodded. “Yeah…but there seems to be something going on at the front, I should go check on it. Look, um, I can leave in an hour…I should make sure everyone will be okay on their own for the night. Can you wait?”

The dazzling smile he got in response filled him with a warmth he’d not felt in three years. She lifted her glass, saluting him, “I can. I’ll drink a couple of…well, my selves.”

He gave a small laugh. “Yeah, of course. Look, uh, I’ll let Mark - my bartender- know that whatever you order is on the house, okay?”

“You don’t…!”

He waved slightly, dismissing her objections. “Yeah…I do. I want to, okay? And make sure you order the truffle popcorn - it’s awesome.”

"Thank you.” That slight blush was back on her face and she looked distinctly bashful. 

He nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just enjoy yourself, okay?” Then, he turned towards Mark, quickly letting him know that whatever Jess wanted she got free of charge. He stepped out from behind the bar, moving quickly towards where Charlie was standing, looking distinctly pissed. 

Fuck, he really hoped whatever was going on wasn’t going to tie him up for hours. 

“Charlie…what’s up?”

“Fucking actors! We might have a bit of a problem in the men’s bathroom…”

“Fuck.” Nick spun around, grabbing Charlie and started marching towards the bathroom. He knew exactly who this was - those fucking TV actors he’d been watching all night. Fuckers. He started muttering to himself, “Don’t be coke…don’t be coke.” 

Charlie hurried along besides him, seemingly having forgotten about the crisis. “So…was that Jess you were talking to at the bar?”

“Focus, Charlie…” Nick grunted as he yanked open the door to the men’s room, steeling himself whatever was on the other side. 

He really didn’t need this tonight… 

—/—

The LA night air was surprising cool as they stepped out of The BarRail. It was as though the city had decided to give them a bit of a reprieve from the intensity of the desert like heat that had been plaguing the city throughout the summer. In fact, Nick could almost taste rain in the air. It was a clean taste - a promise to cleanse the city of the heat, dust and grime that seemed to have clogged LA for the past couple of months. Sunset Boulevard was nearly deserted, which was not surprising since it was nearly one in the morning. The only traffic on the street was the odd cab or sleek black car moving soundlessly down the street - probably going from one bar to another. Nick momentarily hoped that anyone barhopping tonight would end up at his bar - hopefully improving on an already impressive night. 

Nick had had been right about the two TV actors, who were obviously drunk and probably high and about to start some kind of brawl in the middle of his bathroom almost two hours earlier. In an effort to make sure the problem didn’t disturb the rest of the bar, he’d quietly asked both men to leave - making sure to run their credit cards first. He figured it was a testament to the kind of patron his bar attracted, but nine times out of ten, just asking troublemakers to leave seemed to work. Once, both men had disappeared, Nick had waved his favourite magic wand and given free drinks to anyone who had accidentally witnessed the situation - effectively helping people forget there had ever been a problem. It was often the most effective public relations policy he had…of course, it didn’t always work, but most days it did. 

And right now, Nick wished he could just wave that magic wand and just make this whole situation go away…just poof and the hard conversation would be over and he and Jess could move on. Hell, he wished that the rain would start falling and wipe away all the things he and Jess had done to each other. But he knew that was an impossibility. So, instead he turned to her and asked, “So, where are we going?” He had changed out of his pyjamas and into a dark green button up with a pair of charcoal grey slacks and his dark brown lace up boots - he’d left his pyjamas behind in his office.  

She turned, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, and smiled. “I don’t really remember what’s around…or anything much about LA, to be honest.”

Right…she had been away from the city for three years, and even then she’d never really gone near Sunset when she did live here. “Well…there’s a Mel’s Diner or whatever not far from here, they're open twenty-four hours, and another all night place too, I think.”

“I could do with a milkshake…how about Mel’s?”

“Mel’s it is. Its about fifteen minutes walk or I can call an Uber…” He tried to make his tone as light as he possibly could, but he could hear his voice waver slightly. 

“I’m okay walking, if you are.”

Nick nodded and turned towards the restaurant. Holy fuck, this was going to be the most awkward walk in the history of walks - what was he going to say to her? Were they just going to walk in silence? He felt awkward and large and unsure of himself - he had no idea where to put his hands or even how to carry himself. Normally, he would walk rather fast - to get where he was going as quickly as possible, just so he could get back to the bar as quickly as possible. But was that what she would want - to walk fast? When they were together she always took her time while walking, as though wanting to soak in every single aspect of the world around her. He’d always enjoyed that, but in the three yeas she’d been gone, he rarely did it anymore. The world around him wasn’t all that important - he’d forgotten to let it soak in. 

They walked in silence. Both completely lost in thought. Nick was trying not to panic about what he was going to say to Jess; while, Jess couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to this man - someone she loved so completely and who was now nearly unrecognizable to her. The man walking silently next to her was a shadow of the silly, funny, gentle man she had left behind three years ago - now he seemed determined, focused, slightly cold…as though he kept every one and everything around him at an arms length. This man was not the Nick she remembered…he wasn’t her Nick.

Fifteen minutes later, they were sliding into a small white booth tucked at the back of Mel’s Drive-In, a 1950s themed restaurant that had been a mainstay on Sunset for years. The place’s biggest claim to fame was its attempt to recapture the ambiance and frivolity of the 50s, especially through its menu - serving 50s inspired meals, and a few lighter choices, for the health obsessed LA crowd. All the tables were formica, embedded with tiny little gold stars and the seats were covered in red and white lacquer, which stuck to the back of your legs no matter what the weather was like outside. To be completely honest, the place rarely attracted locals - except for maybe the occasional couple desperately wanting brunch, but not wanting to drive out to Silver Lake, or the those stumbling in after a long night at the bars and hunting carbs to soak up the alcohol. Nick was certain that more than a fair share of his customers had wound up here. 

“So, I don’t know about you - but I’m totally having a chocolate shake.” Jess scanned the menu - clearly eager to find the dessert section. Nick, however, glanced over the menu with a growing pit in his stomach - almost everything on it was filled with grease or was deep fried and even the salads all sounded like they came drenched in dressing. For Nick, this was a bit of a nightmare - his diet rarely allowed for so much fat and grease. He frowned down at his menu. It had been three years since the doctors at the hospital had told him to cut down on deep fried and greasy foods…or he might be putting his health at risk. He probably hadn’t eaten anything like what was on this menu in…years.  

“Nick? Is everything ok?” It was clear she had detected that something was wrong. 

He looked up from the menu, still frowning. He shrugged, “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m just …uh…not used to eating this kind of food anymore.”

“You don’t eat…food?” She looked confused.

“What…no…I didn’t mean that. I just meant that I don’t eat a lot of greasy stuff - my fridge is mostly organic stuff. I rarely eat…fast food or deep fried stuff anymore. Although, I do tend to depend on those frozen Trader Joe’s meals for before work a lot…”

Just as Jess was about to respond, a very tired looked young woman appeared next to their table. “Hello. Welcome to Mel’s - what can I get you?”

Jess smiled at her. “Can I have a Black and White shake? And a plate of fries?”

“Sure, and for you sir?”

“Your yogurt shakes are low-fat?”

“Yeah - made with frozen yogurt and fresh fruit.” Her voice contained a veiled tone of sarcasm, almost a verbal eye-roll - she was clearly used to these questions from the younger LA crowd.

“Oh. A strawberry yogurt shake, then.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

The woman nodded, picked up their menus, turned on her heel and walked off. 

Nick ran his hands over the table - obviously nervous. Jess reached over and put one of her hands on his - he’d noticed that she’d done that a few times tonight. He liked the warmth and weight of her skin against his, he liked the familiar way their hands moulded together…as though his muscles were remembering the familiarity and reassurance of the action. But he also found it deeply disturbing because he had no idea what it meant, for either of them. 

He could see she was about to ask him about the whole low-fat diet thing, in order to avoid talking about it - he really was rediscovering how brilliant he is at avoidance - he blurted out, “So, did Dave and Chris got home okay?” 

“Huh? Oh, yes - they did. But you talked to him, right? He mentioned that.”

“Yeah. I did. He seems like a pretty nice guy.”

“He is. I miss him.”

“He doesn’t really like Portland…” 

“That is…an understatement. I think Dave really does want to move here. He hates Portland.”

“Why?”

“A lot of reasons. He lived in New York with his ex-fiance for a long time - well until the guy decided that he and Dave were open, but forgot to tell Dave. He moved to Seattle to be with Chris, and then to Portland maybe four years ago, when Chris got a job there…but he misses living in a big city. That’s the biggest reason. But it also has something to do with his work and the fact that he’s mostly doing research. Plus, he told me that Portland reminds him too much of rural Ohio.”

“Do you think they’ll move?” 

“Maybe. I wouldn’t mind it…” She glanced out the window, a sad look on her face. 

“I take it you guys are close - especially you and Dave.” He leaned forward a little, interested to understand this new relationship of her’s.

“We are.” She turned back to look at him, a thoughtful smile on her face, as though she was momentarily lost in her memories. “They’re probably my closest friends now. They helped a lot.”

“Good…I’m glad.” Nick let his eyes fall down to stare at the table again. He wanted to ask her about how she and Dave and become friends. He wanted to ask her about her life in Portland. He wanted to know so much…he was about to ask her about Dave. Ask her about all the things the man had told him when they’d talked. He wanted to know about this weird beer blanket. He wanted to know about the coffee dates Dave had taken her on to help her start healing. He wanted…but before he could ask all that, she asked him one of the many questions he’d been dreading.

“Nick…what happened to you?”

His eyes snapped back up, locking onto her face. “That’s a loaded question.”

“I know…but, the Nick I remember, you wouldn’t give a crap about low-fat or organic or anything like that. The Nick I knew would’ve ordered the supreme burger and fries and a milkshake even though its almost one-thirty in the morning.”

Nick sighed and ran his hand over his face. He felt exhausted. He had no idea how he should even start explaining things to her. His health thing - what necessitated his lifestyle change - it was all at once incredibly easy and at the same time insanely hard to actually explain to her. He knew she would freak out. He dropped both hands to the table, balling them into fists. He sucked in a deep breath and said, in the most gentle tone he could muster, “That Nick also ended up in the hospital.”

“What!? Nick… oh my god!” A look of complete horror began to spread over her face, she started to push herself off the seat…he wasn’t exactly sure what she intended to do. Maybe move to his side of the table and comfort him. “What happened?”

He put his hand up, gesturing for her to sit down, smiling as though to reassure her that he was now fine. “It’s okay, Jess. I’m okay now. I promise. Look, it…it was just after you left. I started having these panic attacks - well, I didn’t realize I was having them. I just thought I was upset and that’s why my chest hurt all the time and I was constantly light headed and couldn’t really focus on anything. And then…well…something happened that caused a really bad attack. It was almost a full on heart attack.”

“A heart attack…” Jess sounded terrified, but she was cut off by the arrival of their drinks and her fries. He smiled at the waitress who gave him a curt nod in return. As soon as the waitress was gone, Jess reached across the table again and grabbed Nick’s hand. “Nick…Jesus. A heart attack. You nearly had a heart attack?”

“I also fell down and cracked my head on the bathroom sink, giving myself a concussion too…”

“Fuck…Nick…” In all their years together, he had maybe heard her swear at most four or five times. He knew she could, but it was reserved for the most dire of situations, only those times when she was too freaked out or angry to express herself without being too offensive…unlike he was prone to do. ”What…what happened? I need to know. You…you could’ve died!”

“Well, the doctors didn’t actually say anything like that at the time, but they made it pretty clear if I didn’t change a few things, it was going to get that bad.” 

Jess shook her head and sipped at her milkshake. She was keeping her eyes averted from him, but he could see they were heavy with tears. He pulled a few napkins out of the napkin holder and passed them to her. 

“Thank you.” She sniffed, her voice breaking slightly. “Is that why…” She waved a hand in his direction, as though indicating his body. He smiled.

“Why I suddenly decided to stop eating like a overgrown teenager and become completely addicted to the gym and the organics section at the grocery store? Yeah…it is.”

“And you’re okay now?”

“I am. I work out a lot…”

“A lot?”

“Almost every day. I got really into it…Schmidt would be proud.”

“Nick…what…where is Schmidt? What happened?”

Ah…the question of the hour. 

Okay Miller, truth time. He sucked in a huge breath - it was now or never, but he knew it was time for her to hear and know the truth about what had happened…why he had ended up in the hospital, why she had come back to LA to find the people she had considered his closest friends to be totally absent from his life. What she had told him was probably the hardest thing she’d ever have to do, and now he needed to do the same. “Jess…what I’m going to tell you…I need you to remember that I was upset. Fuck…that’s not even the right word for it. I was angry, furious…I was devastated, Jess. Destroyed. You destroyed me.”

“Nick…I know. I’ve always known that I hurt you.”

“No…Jess…not just hurt. You ruined me. After you left, I spent weeks lying in my room - not eating, barely sleeping…it was disgusting. I was disgusting. I hurt so much…so fucking much.”

“Nick…”

 “That’s my name. You keep saying it…” He tried to give her a small lopsided grin, praying that he could interject just a little humour into all this. But he knew that there was no way any amount of jokes or sarcasm could make what was coming any easier. “…look, can you maybe just let me tell you what happened and then you can ask me as many questions as you like. But there’s one thing I need to ask…”

 “Of course. What is it?”

“You asked the same thing of me…but can you promise not to get mad? I need you to remember that I - we - were all so hurt.”

“I can try.” She looked so confused, but her eyes were bright and interested. Fuck…he knew she was never going to see this coming. Fuck…he was about to destroy her. Fuck…

Fuck…

Fuck…

“Thank you. Ok…so…” Nick suddenly drew a blank. He had no idea how to start this. He had no idea what to say - he was terrified of what she was going to say…what she would think or do when she heard everything. He picked up his drink and sipped at it slowly - it was overly sweet and sure as fuck didn’t taste like real strawberries…maybe if they were coated in sugar. He really wished he was at home right now, with a good strong scotch in hand. He took a deep breath. He supposed he needed to just start at the beginning. 

It made the most sense. 

“I wish…I wish telling you this was easier. But I was…I felt like my whole world had ended and it was like I was this numb and just couldn’t feel anything. Those first few weeks - just lying there in our bed - not eating or sleeping or showering or shaving - I almost flunked out of school…it was bad. But Cece called the school and told them I’d suffered a loss in my family, so they let me have a reprieve or whatever. And I think the guys…well I think they talked to the managers at Clyde’s and got me some time off, I never actually asked them about that. But…they were looking after me. They took care of me…which makes what I did even worse. 

Look…Jess…there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it…okay? And I need you to know that I am so sorry. It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made…it fucked everything up. And I hope you’ll at least try to understand…”

“Nick…what on earth! What happened?”

Just say it, Nick…just fucking say it. It has to be said…there’s no way around it now. He couldn’t jump up and run out of the restaurant and pretend this whole conversation never happened. He just had to say it…

He stared at her for a long moment. The her face was a mixture of fear and curiosity - this innocent expression, simply because she could never in a million years anticipate what was about to come. How could she? She had put her faith and trust in him, and she had hoped he would always have her back, even when she was hurting him. He opened his mouth…now or never… 

“Cece and I started sleeping together.” 

There. He’d said it. It was out there now and there was no taking it back. She now knew about him and her best…or ex-best…friend. Now he just had to face what ever judgement she was going to pass over him. He started at her, expectantly.

She stared right back at him, a french fry paused halfway to her mouth. The look on her face told him all he needed to know and all he’d ever feared - complete shock. She shook her head slowly, as though she hadn’t quite heard him properly. Slowly, she put the fry back on the plate. “You…and Cece?” Her voice sounded incredulous and confused - as though the words he’d just uttered made absolute zero sense to her. 

“Yes. God…it was so stupid. So fucking stupid. We were both…” 

He never gets to finish that sentence. 

Oddly enough, it’s the sound that he registers first…before the pain even hits him. A great, booming kind of noise that slams into his ear drums and rattles around inside his brain for a while before he even begins to understand what the sound actually is and what has just happened. But recognition of what’s happened comes a second later when he realizes his face is on fire - she’s slapped him. Hard. Really really hard. 

The entire left side of his face is aflame with pain. 

In all the years that he’s known Jess, throughout their friendship and relationship, he can maybe count on both hands the number of times she’s hit him in some way…and that includes the time they tried that spanking thing that she got way too into! But never once, not ever, has she hit him with the intention of hurting him physically out of anger or some other negative emotion. They always did it out of play or fun or frustration…but tonight, he sees anger in her eyes. And he knows she hit him out of sheer unbridled hurt, which translated into anger. 

He brings his hand up to cup his cheek, which he is sure has a bright red hand print blossoming on it right now. He stares at her, shocked. But at least he knows now exactly how she would react to hearing the news…slapping apparently. 

“Jess…”

Her hand shoots out a second time, this time capturing the right side of his face. He recoils back as the sound and pain explode across his face. The hand not holding his face comes up, ready to defend himself, if need be. He doesn't want this to be happening. He knew he should have expected something like this…what he did was super shitty after all…but for her to hit him? No. That’s not like her. That’s just not the kind of person Jessica Day is. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but she’s already sliding out from the booth. Her eyes are huge and watery - he watches as tears start to slide down her cheeks. He tries again. “Jess…”

She looks at him with such hurt and fire in her eyes and just shakes her head. 

“Fuck you, Nick Miller.” Then she turns on her heel and walks away from the table. The waitress, who naturally had been watching the entire scene with a keen sense of interest, hurries over - hungrily looking for gossip to tell her friends who work the morning shift.  

Nick reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, removing two twenties. “This should cover our food.” He practically snaps at the waitress, who is eyeing his reddening cheeks with amusement. She probably thinks she’s just been witness to an epic breakup or something like that. He’s fully aware that he just left a seventy percent tip, but right now he couldn’t give a shit. He needs to catch up to her. He needs to talk to Jess. 

He has to explain. 

Fuck. 

Why was she allowed to tell him all about the awful things that had happened, but when he tried he got slapped…twice. He just wanted to explain. He just wanted to try and explain! 

He ran out of the restaurant at such speed that he nearly ran into a newspaper box that was sitting, quite inconveniently, just outside the doors. He grabbed hold of the box, steadying himself and turned towards Sunset. He could see her, standing on the curb about half a block away, hugging herself tightly with her head bowed but turned slightly to keep an eye out for an oncoming cab. 

No. There was no fucking way she was going to walk out of his life, yet again, without him being able to actually say something to her. 

“Jess! Wait…please!”

He started running towards Sunset. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harrogate Nights (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harrogate_Nights)


	11. Chapter 10 - Amber Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations late at night...

“What do you want, Nick?” Her voice had a tearful, almost reigned quality to it. It was a tone that nearly broke him in half, because just two hours earlier…no, fuck that, not even forty minutes earlier…she had sounded hopeful, happy, flirty even. And now, all of that was gone - disappeared in a cloud of hurt and betrayal. 

His betrayal. 

As he jogged up to her, he struggled to figure out what he wanted to say. He briefly thought about demanding that she listen to him, using the fact that he deserved as much because he had given her the chance to explain. But somehow, he knew that using the word ‘demand’ was probably a rather terrible idea. He could beg…that sometimes worked, although Jess usually hated it. His mind was a complete blank when he reached her. He opened his mouth, hoping that some invisible force would just put the words in his mouth. Sadly, nothing brilliant or awe-inspiring came out, instead, all he managed to croak was “I’m so fucking sorry, Jess.”

She was turned away from him, facing down Sunset - back towards the bar - but now, she turned around slowly to look at him. Her eyes were shiny and huge, and there were tear tracks running down her cheeks - leaving trails of mascara on her flawless cheeks. She was biting her lip, only this time it was not out nervousness, it was in an attempt to prevent her lip from quivering. She was fighting to try and keep her emotions in check. 

She didn’t want to lose control any more than she already had with him. 

She just shook her head in response. 

“Jess…please…” He wasn’t even sure what he was asking of her. But he knew he was about to start begging…fuck whether she liked it or now. 

“No. Nick…no. Please, go away. i don’t want to do this right now…I thought I could do this, I thought I could talk to you, but then you tell me…you tell me  _that_ and I’m just supposed to be ok. I can’t do that, Nick.”

He stared at her for a moment. Not quite sure of how he should respond to this. Not entirely sure how he could reply to this. Then he started shaking his head. He started to get angry. This wasn’t right - as much as he didn’t want to make any kinds of demands on her, she owed him the right to let him explain. She’d been allowed to tell him about the hell she went through, so why couldn’t he tell what had happened to him? What made his hurt and his pain less than hers?  

“So, you get to come back and lay all your reasons - all your mistakes and hurt and sadness on me - but the moment I start confessing what I did, what happened to me…I’m the awful monster who has to be shunned? Is that how we’re playing this?”

She turned away again, not bothering to give him an answer. She hugged herself even tighter and stared down the street - clearly wishing for a cab or something to suddenly appear and take her away from this…from him. She stayed silent - watching the empty street. 

He wanted to grab her, twist her back towards him. Make her listen. But he knew he would never do that…he could never do that. Doing that was tantamount to hurting her again…forcing his will onto hers, and he would never do that to the one person he cherished more than anything else in the world. But he wasn’t going to just let her walk away from this…she wasn’t going to just disappear into the inky black LA night. 

“Jess…I don’t deserve this! I let you explain, you owe it to me to let me explain!”

Her voice, despite having her back to him, was strong and crisp. “What do I owe you, Nick? What exactly do I owe you? Do I owe you the right to tell me all about how you were screwing my best friend while I was lying curled up in bed wishing I didn’t exist anymore? Is that what I owe you?”

He took a step closer to her. It felt as though anger and hurt was literally seeping out of their pores. “That’s not fair. That’s not fucking fair. You…you fucking know that I would have been there. I would have been at your side in a second if you wanted me to…but you ended it. You ended us! You made me think I was worthless…that I was worth just throwing away like day old garbage. Jess…everyday that you’ve been gone, all I’ve done is entertain some disgusting fantasy that I wasn’t good enough and you ran off with some other guy…”

She whipped around, her hair flying into her face. She looked angry. Angrier than he had ever seen her. “So you decided to best way to handle that was by fucking Cece?”

He had never heard her used that term in that way that before…it was weird and gross coming out of her mouth. He hated it instantly. It wasn’t something he wanted her to say - it created unpleasant and disgusting images in his mind. But even so…he could feel himself going even more on the defensive. She was judging him before she understood anything…no, that wasn’t right. His battle armour was up. 

“And I’m sorry for that…” He ground out. His voice falling, becoming hard angry. “But I’m asking for the chance to explain why and what happened, but if you’d just rather just run away again - then by all means…there’s a taxi coming now. Maybe if you asked nicely enough, you could even get it to drive you back to fucking Portland.”

He heard her give a small huff, she was doing that thing she sometimes did when they fought - dismissing him because she didn’t want to deal with his irrational anger. Only, he wasn’t being irrational…he was being truthful. For the first time in years, he was being honest with himself. He didn’t want her to go, but he’d be damned if she was going to go before he got the last word in. 

She started to lift her hand up, but Nick - barely realizing what he was doing - reached out and grabbed her arm. He leaned in close to her, his voice a low growl. “But I promise you, Jess…if you get in that cab. I’m not going to want anything else to do with you…ever again. You broke me…you destroyed everything I loved about my life, I loved you…so much it was blinding. And you took that away from me. 

“I gave you a chance…I let you explain…and I’m so sorry you were hurt and sad and in pain - it kills me that happened…but so was I. I lost the love of my life. You owe me the chance to explain…you owe me that much. And if you can’t give that to me…I…I…I don’t think I can do this any more.”

She still had her head turned away from him, so he couldn’t see her face as the bright yellow taxi cab pulled up to the curb.  The driver rolled down the passenger side window, clearly noticing that Nick was gripping Jess’ arm - to an outside observer, this could be read a million very different (negative) ways. “Ma’am? Are you okay?” The driver’s voice sounded worried. Nick suddenly had a vision of the man’s fist cracking him across the face. 

Fuck…how had this night turned out like this!? Everything had been going so great! So great…until his stupid, pigheaded actions of three years ago had destroyed it. Just like they had destroyed so much of his life.

Jess wasn’t saying anything. She hadn’t pulled her arm away from Nick’s grasp, nor had she opened the taxi’s door…she was just standing there, staring at the cab.

“Ma’am?” The driver’s voice got louder. Nick could see him starting to unbuckle his seatbelt. Yeah…this was about to escalate badly. 

Nick dropped his voice to almost a whisper…what was wrong with him? Why was he acting like some kind of crazy person!? “Jess…please…I’ll beg if you want me to. Just let me explain.”

Suddenly, she’s moving - as though the sound of his voice spurs her into action. She reaches up and pries his hand off her arm, shoving his arm away from her. Then she reaches out and opens the taxi’s door, slipping inside. His heart plummets as he watches her get into the cab. 

This is it.

Because he knows he means it - he means what he just said - he had spoken the absolute truth. He needed her to trust him enough to explain what happened and then if they had to go their separate ways, so be it. But he needed her to try… to talk. To let them find that rhythm they once had, so they maybe had a shot to work things out…even if this was too big a thing to actually work out. 

But she was getting into the cab. 

The moment it drove away…she would be out of his life for good. There would be no turning back, no second or third or fourth…or whatever number they were on now…chance. She would just be gone and maybe he would find a way to move on. 

Or maybe he wouldn’t. 

But tomorrow he would wake up in the morning, drink a cup of coffee and then he’d go to his bar and he’d try to be happy with the choices he was making right now. 

…bullshit Miller….

Nick could feel his heart starting to break again. Having her in his life again - even for the few hours they’d spent together - had gotten his hopes up. He’d started to enjoy seeing her smile again. He had loved having her in The BarRail tonight. It had been a dream come true. 

But now…now…he’d finally have to find some way of getting over those hopes and those daydreams. All because she was getting in the cab.

Fuck…he was going to cry. He was going to be that fucking cliched asshole in all those stupid movies he never really liked…the idiot who stands in the middle of the deserted street watching his one true love drive away, sobbing silently in the night. Nick Miller was about to be a Hollywood cliche…

Fuck.

“NICK!”

His head jolted up, he’d been so wrapped up in his own overly dramatic fantasies that he’d had no idea she was talking to him. He looked down at the cab - the door was still hanging open and she was leaning out of it slightly, looking up at him. He stared at her, confused. 

She just shook her head. And motioned with her hand. “Get in.” 

Oh. She wasn’t driving away… 

He got in the cab. 

She leaned forward and spoke softly to the driver. “Sorry about that. He’s had a long night. Um, can you take us to 4703 Coldwater Canyon?”

Nick could almost hear the laughter in the driver’s voice. “Sure lady…if he’s gonna throw up in my cab, though, you gotta warn me so I can pull over. Okay.”

Nick wanted to speak up and assure the guy that there was no way in hell he was going to vomit in a cab…but as he opened his mouth to do so, he suddenly realized soemthing. He was about to be driven - at almost two thirty in the morning - to Jess’ apartment. The very idea that he was going to be in her home…well fuck…it kind of made him want to vomit. He turned to Jess, a surprised look on his face. 

“You sure about this, Jess?”

She barely looked at him. “You said you wanted the chance to explain. So, you’re getting it. I’m going home - its a twenty-three minute drive from here to there, you have twenty-three minutes.”

“What?” 

“You want to explain, Nick…so explain.”

He stared at her for a moment. Twenty-three minutes. He wasn’t actually going over to her apartment, he was just taking a drive - in a cab. Okay. Twenty-three minutes…yeah, he could explain himself. He nodded at her. “Okay…though can I ask for there to be no more slapping?” He rubbed his face absentmindedly.

She leaned into him, inspecting his cheek. “Hm. You’ll live.”

“Gee…thanks.”

“Nick…”

“Yeah?”

“Talk.”

“Right…Um…look, this isn’t exactly easy, okay? I’ve been hating myself for doing all this for three years, okay?”

“Okay.” She sounds slightly unsure, like she doesn’t quite believe him or perhaps that she is even in this situation.

“Jess…look…this was a thing that Cece and I did together. We fell into something that…was stupid and wrong. But, you need to remember that we were so upset. I felt like my whole world had ended - like everything that made me happy had just vanished. And Cece…well, I can’t speak for her, but she was hurt. Fuck was she hurt. And you remember how I said that the only way I managed to rationalize everything was to believe that there was another guy? Well, Cece had decided the same thing. And she was mad. So fucking mad. So…so she…” He let his head drop, he couldn’t meet her eyes. He couldn’t look at her while he said it.

“What Nick?”

“Well…Cece wanted to find a way to get back at you. She wanted to hurt you.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath next to him. And for the first time since they’d gotten into the cab, Nick notices how warm it is - the heat is close and sickening. He can feel a sheen of sweat starting to build on his skin - beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He reaches out to crank open the window slightly - anything to break the heat building in the cab - building between the two of them. 

Her hand suddenly comes to rest on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to her. “Did you?” Her tone is almost emotionless…almost. 

“No…yes…no…fuck.”

“Simple question, Nick.”

“Complex answer, Jess.”

“Don’t…this isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not joking! I can’t give you a straight answer, okay? Of course, I never wanted to hurt you - my whole life with you has been about making absolutely sure that I never hurt you. But then…then you disappeared and  _I_ hurt so badly. So fucking badly that I…I just…I don’t know. It made sense. In some fucked up way…it made sense. And…Cece was there. She was just there. It didn’t make anything better, but it made it…less intense sometimes.”

“I just…I don’t understand, Nick. Its…just doesn’t sound like something you would do! You…had sex with Cece.” Her voice sounds…awestruck.

“I’m sorry, Jess. I really am.”

“Did you hate me that much?”

“No…but I hated what was happening to me that much.” Then he shook his head…no, this was coming out wrong. All wrong. He sighed. “Fuck…”

His frustration must have been obvious, as she gave him a small push on the arm and whispered, “What?”

“I’m not explaining it right…I’m sorry…I’m trying…but it wasn’t about hate, Jess. It was never about hate - at least not for me, maybe it was for Cece - she used the word enough. But for me, it was about hurt and anger and needing to feel something other than being completely numb and sad all the time.”

“But that still doesn’t explain…why?”

“I know. And I’m sorry…but Cece was hurting just as much as I was, only she showed it differently. She didn’t break down and hide or shut out the world like I did, she was a bit more active to my passive. And for her, the best way to deal with this was to…well…get back at you. She wanted to hurt you like you had hurt us. And it made sense to do it like that…at first I barely resisted, but it started to feel good. It started to feel like i was doing something…not technically just getting back at you, but doing something! Not just…hurting. I know that you probably never expected this…but, can you honestly blame us?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to shake your hand and congratulate you.”

“Jess…fuck…we had no idea what was going on. You think that letter you gave me answered one single damn question? It said nothing - they were all non-answers and vague half-truths. You cut yourself out of our lives, Jessica. What did you think - that we’d all band together, hold hands and it would all come out alright?!” He can tell his voice is getting a little higher. “What did you expect exactly, Jess? That you’d come back and we’d all be a normal functioning family that would be able to welcome you back with open arms?”

She looks over at him again. Her eyes flashing with anger. “No, Nick. I didn’t expect that - I knew I’d have to do some real work to get you guys to understand why I did what I did…but to find out that you fractured our group of friends by making such a horrible decision…that you would betray what we had by…by sleeping with my best friend. That those people I considered to be friends would not even be in your life anymore…I never thought that was what I would find.”

“Jess…what we had, it was fucked up - ruined - the moment you made the phone call. Look, I’m not blaming you, but…all I could think about was how hurt I was. I believed you had betrayed us! That’s why…why I let it happen with Cece. God, I fucked up, Jess. I admit that. I honestly do. But it was like I was just acting on impulse - doing things because they were there to do. And Cece and I just…it just was a thing we started doing.”

“You slept with Cece. God…even just saying it sounds so wrong! So gross and disgusting.”

“It helped.” He says matter of factually. And in all honestly, he’s right - what he and Cece did was wrong. It was gross…because it was an act of betrayal - especially now knowing what he does about Jess’ reasons. But it was all he had to hold onto for those first couple of months. He had missed Jess so much, missed having someone be that close to him, and having Cece there…as much as he hated what he did, he was sure that it had saved his life. 

 “Glad to hear that.” She nearly spits out.

“Jess…its not as though we were dating! We were just…friends with benefits. That’s how we defined it. Jess…I didn’t know what to think about what was going on. I was completely confused and so upset. All I knew was that you had decided that you never wanted to see me again and it hurt so much…I was drowning and Cece threw me a life preserver. I held on. In the most fucked up way, I held on to her…she kept me from going under. Sorry for the stupid metaphor…”

Jess pressed both of her hands against her face - pressing her palms into her eyes - grunting softly. A silence filled the cab, broken only by the occasional soft crackle of the driver’s radio. Outside, all Nick could see was the dark void of Franklin Canyon Park - they must be close to her apartment by now. His time’s almost up. He has no idea what was going to happen when she got out of the car - would he ever see her again? Fuck…this might be the last time he ever occupied the same space as her.

“Jess?”

“Yeah?” Her voice was slightly muffled by her hands. 

“I’m sorry for what I said before - outside the restaurant. I’m sorry if it sounded like I was belittling what happened to you. I…I was upset. I still want to see you…I still want to…” Her voice interrupted him. 

“Shut up, Nick. This is a lot to process ok…you just told me that the two people who I considered to be the most important people in my life…the two people I loved more than anything else…were screwing…I need time to deal with that.”

“Will I see you again?” 

He doesn’t get an answer, instead she leans forward and taps the driver on the shoulder. “It’s that one, just on the corner.” She points to a small apartment complex surrounded by palm trees, which in the shadowy light of the street lamps looks almost greenish grey. The building looks older - perhaps built in the late 80s or early 90s, wood and stucco siding - in all, the building looks incredibly typical of Southern Californian apartment buildings. Small, quaint, with very few flourishes accentuating the building. It doesn’t at all look like the kind of building Nick would imagine Jess living in - there’s no character, no quirkiness to it. It just looks like a simple apartment building. 

 The cab pulls up to the front door. 

Suddenly, Nick is completely at a loss as to what he should do. Because this - this conversation - all of this…nothing about it feels finished. There was still so much he wants to still tell her. He wants to tell her about what happened with Winston and Schmidt, he wants to tell her about the hospital, he wants to tell her about his school - especially the mixology classes - he wants to tell her about eventually finding his condo…opening the bar. He just wants to just tell her everything. 

However, it was three in the morning, so the chances of that all happening are pretty slim. 

He had no idea if he should get out of the cab or give the driver his address. He slowly turns to Jess, who is fishing in her purse for cash. 

“Leave it, Jess. I’ll get it.” 

She glanced up at him, nodded, and snapped her purse closed. “Thanks.” 

He leaned forward, motioning at the meter. “Keep it running, okay? We’ll be a couple more minutes.” 

The driver just shrugged, probably figuring he was owed a pretty decent tip for putting up with their emotional drama this late at night. 

“Guess my twenty-three minutes are up, huh? What happens now, Jess?” Nick leaned closer to her. 

“What time is it?”  

He glanced at his watch. “Like three in the morning.” 

She paused for a moment, staring out the window. Then, she sighed softly. “Do you have more to tell me?”

“Yes…some.”

“Okay…” She opened the cab’s door and stepped out. 

Nick paused - he had no idea what was going on. Was he following her? He turned to the driver - half expecting the guy to give him some indication of what was going on. The man glanced over his shoulder and shrugged at Nick. Jess’ head appeared in the car doorway, “You coming?”

Oh. 

He was getting out here. He was actually going to go inside Jessica Day’s apartment. 

Fuck…this was a weird night.

Nick fumbles to get his wallet out, eventually yanking out his credit card and tapping it on the payment console - selecting the highest tip value possible. He thanked the driver and got out of the cab. 

The air on the street is cool and fresh - deeply refreshing after the heat of the cab. He’s dimly aware of the yellow car driving away. He watches Jess for a moment, she looks nervous, perhaps just realizing that she’s essentially invited him over to her apartment at three in the morning. He runs his palms over his thighs, desperately wishing he could wipe away the sweat that keeps forming there. 

How had this happened? How the fuck did he get here!? Earlier this evening, he’d walked into his bar, ready for another typical Sunday night - some drinking, some cocktail mixing, some flirting - and then suddenly he was having the biggest conversation of his life. Getting slapped. Almost losing it and crying in the middle of Sunset Boulevard. And now…he was here. Standing in the street, outside Jess’ apartment, completely unsure of what was about to happen. 

More talking? 

Well…he has absolutely no right to even think that anything else could happen.

But, before the talking could happen, they had to maybe move off the street. He cleared his throat. “Uh…Jess…if you’re uncomfortable, I can just call another cab.”

“No…we need to finish talking. Are you going to be ok? Its not too late for you?”

“No…I want to talk. I’ll live.” He gave her a smile - which was not returned.

She nodded and turned towards the entrance to the building, walking quickly. He followed. 

As they walked in the front door, he noticed for the first time that the building was called The Excelsior - he chuckled internally, he always found the names they gave apartment buildings completely ridiculous.The lobby was small and brightly lit - even for this late at night. He could see a small mail room tucked just off the main stairway. The building was obviously still a walk up - since he could see no evidence of a elevator anywhere. Nick expected Jess to turn up the stairs, but instead she walked straight across the lobby and pushed open a second door - leading into a small courtyard. 

She looked over her shoulder, noting his look of puzzlement. “I live in the second building. Normally, I just go in through the gate on the side, but they lock it this late.” 

As he stepped out into the courtyard, he could tell that the apartment complex was much larger than he’d realized out on the street - it was actually divided up into three buildings, all arranged around a small courtyard. The courtyard was taken up by a collection of rather fashionable metal patio furniture that was arranged tastefully around a small tiled hot-tub, with a small BBQ area tucked away in the far corner of the outdoor space. Someone had also taken the time to decorate the courtyard with a bunch of flower boxes and small potted palm trees…there was even an outdoor fire pit with a few benches. Someone had been using it tonight - the air was heavy with the lingering scent of woodsmoke. The whole space had a secluded, otherworldly feel to it. 

This had much more of a Jessica Day feel to it. 

She hurried through the courtyard, opening a door to the building just to the right of the hot tub, holding it open for him. He walked into a small hallway, with a set of stairs just off to the right of the door. She pointed up the stairs. “Upstairs, 215.” He walked quickly up the stairs. 

Her suite was at the far end of the hallway. She opened the door and walked in, switching on a light as she tossed her purse onto a small table just on the inside of the door. To his complete surprise, she called out “I’m home!” as the door shut behind them.

Who the fuck was also living here?

In response, a very small black cat wandered into the entranceway. The cat took one look up at Nick and then promptly sat down in the middle of the hallway - watching him. Jess leaned down, picking up the cat - which looked mildly insulted at being manhandled - and turned to Nick with the first smile on her face since the restaurant. “Nick, this is Mary-Belle”    

Nick, who had never really been very good around animals - never actually having had one as a kid - just didn’t get the whole concept of keeping an animal in the house. But this cat…well she looked so small and cute that he kind of could see the appeal. He leaned down so he was nearly eye to eye with the cat, reaching out slowly…huh, his hand was shaking slightly…and gently pet the top of her head. “Hi Mary-Belle.” He carefully stroked her - enjoying the sensation of her soft fur on his hand. She didn’t take her eyes off him. Then, as though giving her seal of approval or…something…she meowed softly. The noise was more a of a squeak than what he normally thought of as the sound that a cat would make. 

“Where did Mary-Belle come from?” He asked softly, as he continued to gently stroke the cat’s small head. 

“Dave gave him to me. He thought it would be good to have another living creature to look after. Plus, she’s so cute…”

“She is.” He liked this. This felt easy and calm - the two of them, standing in a mostly dark apartment, talking quietly about her cat. They weren’t yelling at each other. There was no slapping or anger or hurt…just the two of them and a cat. 

Quite suddenly, the cat gave a small noise of protest, shook her head and gracefully jumped out of Jess’ arms, disappearing into the dark apartment. Jess watched her go, then turned back to him. “She likes you. Normally, she swats.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky.”

“You should. So, um come on in.” She walked into the living room and switched on a floor lamp, casting the room in a soft light. 

The place was surprisingly large - for an LA apartment, anyways. It seemed to be one enormous room. The layout was pretty typical. Right off the entrance was a small kitchen, which was exposed to the rest of the suite by a passthrough. The kitchen was nothing more than a fridge and stove, with a tiny counter that also held a sink - but Jess had made it her own by framing some old cookbook covers and hanging them on the wall next to the fridge. The counter, which was divided into two: a lower section for the sink and kitchen and a higher section that was meant for dining The counters were stark and spotlessly clean - the only things cluttering them was Jess’ treasured Chem-ex, a toaster and a rather large potted plant on the dining area. 

Beyond the kitchen, the rest of the apartment opened up into the living area…and, Nick supposed, the bedroom. Although, exactly where Jess slept, Nick had no idea. The apartment was painted eggshell white, but Jess had added touches of colour here and there. An overstuffed burgundy love seat, matching club chair and what looked like an antique coffee table dominated most of the living area. He noticed that draped over the loveseat was that blanket Dave had mentioned - the one with the beer steins on it, for a moment, Nick wanted to ask her about it...but now wasn't the time.  The loveseat and chair were positioned strangely. They were not pushed up against a wall, instead they faced away from the entranceway, resting almost in the middle of living room. In fact, Nick realized, the loveseat and chair acted as a kind of divider between the kitchen and the rest of the apartment. She - or somebody - had mounted a flat screen TV to a wall. She had also hung a few pictures up around the living room - mostly stuff he remembered from living with her. Next to the only window, and door to the balcony, was a large bookshelf - clearly from Ikea. On it, she kept a large collection of books - he smiled inwardly as he remembered her fondness for traditional books, never quite getting the hang of her Kindle. Along with the books were a lot of personal photographs. 

Her parents, Dave and Chris, Cece, the guys…and him. 

His breath caught in his throat as he saw that a picture of him had been placed front and centre on one of the shelves. It was a picture they had taken on their first anniversary. They had decided to each pick one thing to do for their anniversary - and, inexplicably, she had decided she wanted to go for a hike in Topanga State Park. She’d taken the picture of him standing on Eagle Rock, with the park spread out behind him. He had his sunglasses pushed up on his forehead, his face looked incredibly sweaty, but he looked insanely happy. He remembered how much he’d grumbled about that hike…how hot it was, how dusty the trail was, how he was sure they didn’t take enough water and were going to die of thirst. But he also remembered how happy he’d been, just walking with her, holding her hand - pulling her into a small shady grove of trees and kissing her for what felt like hours. 

He wanted to pick up the picture. He wanted to touch it - make sure it was real. He wanted to remember all of it. Knowing that she had kept that picture, well it made him feel special somehow. It was confirmation that he wasn’t the only one still rooted in the past - that she too felt something. 

He wrenched his eyes away from that picture to take in the rest of the apartment. He found himself frowning in puzzlement as he noticed that the wall opposite the TV was actually just one long string of closets - but still no bed. He finally turned to Jess, confused. “Uh…Jess? Where do you sleep?”

She laughed - it was the first time she’d done so since those damning words had come out of his mouth - and tapped the closet in the centre. “Murphy bed.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. The place came furnished - it was the biggest selling feature. Meant I didn’t need to pay to move all my crap down here.” She seems incredibly nervous - glancing around the apartment, as though certain he was going to judge or condemn her for it.

It was at that second that the cards suddenly fell into place for Nick. This apartment didn’t feel like Jess. It didn’t feel like a home. It felt…temporary. Like a rest stop on a really long drive. His eyes swept back over the apartment - it was sparsely furnished, there was barely any kind of decorative feature anywhere in the room. It was…generic. Jess had no intention of staying here. Maybe, she had no intention of staying in LA. 

She was back…but she wasn’t sure if she was staying. 

That’s what this apartment said. 

Which meant that his confession tonight might have been the ultimate nail in the coffin of Jess’ LA adventure. Shit. She could just disappear tomorrow and he’d probably never know or hear from her again. Nick sighed inwardly - he should have expected this. Why would she come back permanently unless she was sure that nothing bad would happen. And now…something bad has happened. So, its only a matter of time before she disappears again.

“Nick?”

“Huh?” He glanced back at her. “What?”

“I asked if you’d like something to drink.”

“Oh. Yeah, some water, please?”

“Sure.” She nodded and walked back into the kitchen. “Have a seat.”

He dropped down onto the love seat. All at once, he realized just how tired he was - he’d been awake for almost sixteen hours now. But he needed to get it together - he needed to do this thing. Stifling a yawn, he leaned forward and picked up a sheet of paper sitting on the coffee table. It was a flyer for a dance studio in Marina Del Ray. She had circled the address and a few of the classes. Tap dancing. He smiled again…yeah, that made sense. Jessica Day tap dancing…that was actually a perfect fit. 

A tall glass of water was placed in front of him. He glanced up as she settled herself in the club chair, drawing her knees up to her chest. He tapped the flyer with his index finger. “Gonna be the next Eleanor Powell, Jess?”

“You know who Eleanor Powell is?”

“I watched a documentary…she was in it. There was tap dancing.” He shrugged as though watching old documentaries at three in the morning was no big deal. 

She smiled at that. “You sat through a documentary about dancing? You really have changed.”

“It was late at night…nothing else on. So…dancing?”

“I got into swing dancing last year, and I now I want to learn how to tap.”

“Cool. Suits you.”

“Thanks…uh…Nick…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really late…can we finish our talk?”

“Right…I’m sorry.”

She nodded - a small gesture, asking him to continue with what he had to say.

He took a deep breath. The hard part was over now - the big confession, it was finished. Now all that was left was to tell her about how his life had gotten so incredibly fucked up. “Look, Jess…can I just say that I am so sorry for what happened. I’ve felt bad about what I did for three years, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt this awful about it.”

“Thanks. I…I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“I deserved it.”

“Still…it was so unlike me. Nick, I know I’ve asked this…but did you really do it because you were angry and wanted to hurt me. Was…sleeping with her out of spite?”

“I…tried not to let it be. I tired so hard to just let it be a thing that Cece and I were doing…this awful, fucked up thing that should not have been happening. But, sometimes…when all I could think about was you in another guy’s arms or that maybe you were somewhere laughing at me…having a good chuckle at dumb Nick’s expense…yeah, I think I let it happen out of spite.”

She turned her head slightly, averting her gaze from him. One hand drifted up to her mouth, and he heard the softest of sniffles. He leaned forward, wanting so badly to touch her. “Jess…you know that if I had known why, I would never have done anything like that, right? The idea that…”

“That you were fucking Cece…”

“Can you please not use that term - it sounds…so vulgar when you say it.”

“Fine. That while you were screwing Cece, I was in the middle of losing your baby?”

Nick stood up. He pushed his hands through his short hair, making a deep guttural sound - a cross between a moan and a grunt. He started pacing - walking slowly from the love seat to the window and back again. He paused after a moment, pulling his hands away from his head, turning to face her. “This is so fucked up! You’re blaming me for doing this while that was happening…you’re mad at me for having sex with Cece while you were suffering!? Right?” 

“Nick…”

“No! I’m right aren’t I? You’re mad at me for doing this thing while you were in the hospital, as though I was supposed to have some kind of sixth-sense about what was going on!?”

"That's not true!” 

“But it is. It is! You…” He feels his rage bubble up, a deep crimson red rage that boils his blood and makes him want to scream and kick the wall. But then he looks down at her, she’s kind of tucked up into herself on the chair - she pushed her hair behind her ears, except for one long curly strand that she’s still playing. And the look on her face - its a look of devastation…which is the only appropriate word for it. She looks wrecked. Its as though every single word he’s said just now - and maybe all night - has been a series of tiny daggers he’s been stabbing her with. And suddenly - all at once - the fight goes out of him and he sinks back onto the loveseat, his head dropping into his hands. 

“Fuck…Jess…fuck. I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t be…I’m being…fuck…”

“Tell me more.” Her voice is soft and gentle…tearful, but gentle.

He looks up. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me what happened. What happened with Schmidt, Winston…and Cece.” The last is ground out, a hard whisper, like she’s not quite willing to say the name. He knows she’s angry. 

“It ended badly, which I always knew it would.”

“Yeah?” She phrases it like a question, although she probably has a damn good idea of the powder keg that was the situation Nick had been in. 

“Of course. Come on…we were playing a crazy game of Russian Roulette - eventually one of our…encounters…was going to blow up in our faces. It was ridiculous - I see that now. And I knew from the moment the whole thing started that it was going to end badly…”

“So…what happened?”

“A lot - my panic attacks were getting worse, although I was ignoring them. And the whole fucking thing was just so stressful…I think everything that was happening with Cece and I, and the stress of how badly I was hurting, plus constantly being afraid that Schmidt was going to find out…well all of it must have contributed to my panic attacks. And then…Schmidt found out.”

“God…”

“He completely blew up. He was yelling…Cece was trying to calm him down and then I had to open my big fat mouth, which just made things worse.” Nick grabbed the water glass from the table in front of him, taking a sip. This part…it was always the worst part. Remembering it. Thinking about it. Knowing that this was the moment when a friendship he had cherished - even when he didn’t realize it - had ended for good. “He punched me.”

“What?!” Nick knew Jess would find that hard to believe - just as as much as finding out that Nick and Cece had been bumping uglies for more than a month after she left. But the idea of Schmidt actually punching someone…well, if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of that punch, he’d find it hard to believe too. 

“Yeah. I don’t remember much…it was a good solid punch too. Knocked me right out.”

“He knocked you unconscious?”

“Yup. I have no idea what happened after that, but I woke up a couple hours later with a pillow under my head, alone in the loft. This is where the bad health stuff happens… I’m a little shaky on the next bit though…I remember a blinding headache and feeling like there was this really heavy weight on my chest, I think my arm hurt  a lot too. I remember getting to the bathroom, where it got pretty crazy - the lights got really bright, I remember that, and I couldn’t breathe and I passed out. Cracked my head on the sink on my way down too…”

“Who found you?”

“I think it was Winston - no one ever told me exactly what happened. But I figure that Schmidt must have called Winston and told him what happened and Winston came home to yell at me, but found me unconscious and bleeding on the bathroom floor. Anyways, someone called an ambulance and got me to the hospital. After that…well, I got scared. I didn’t want to end up like my dad, so I decided that I needed to get my shit in order.”

“And the guys?”

“They left.” Nick shrugged, staring down into his water glass. There really wasn’t any other way to say it. Because it was true - they had just left. One by one…the people most important to him had left…Jess because of something so awful, he still had a hard time thinking about it. Winston, Schmidt and Cece because of his stupidity. Because of old Nick’s inability to do things without fucking up. 

“What do you mean they left? I don’t understand that.”

“No? If you had still been here - if we hadn’t been dating - and if I did what I did…would you have stuck around? Would you still have seen me as a friend?”

“I don’t know…depending on the circumstances, I guess.”

“Well…they didn’t. I was still in the hospital and they all came by to see me - one by one - it was like they timed it or something. But they all popped in to tell me that our friendships were finished.”

“I can’t believe…”

“You should. Winston told me he needed a break from our dynamic - whatever that means - and I’ve barely heard from him since. I got an email from him just after the first good review for the bar came out, and I’ve sent him the occasional note, but mostly we drifted apart. Cece…well, obviously, we just never spoke again. She was too embarrassed by what we’d done and I think she was probably too hurt over everything. And Schmidt…he just walked out of my life and that was the end of it. What I did - what I let myself do - was too awful for our friendship to come back from. It was too…disgusting. He had every right to walk out and not look back.”

“But, Nick, he was…”

“My best friend? Yeah, he was…one of them. But I betrayed him. I fucked the one woman he loved as much as I loved you…he made it very clear. He wanted nothing to do with me anymore. And what could I do? Beg him not to leave - promise I’d be a better friend? He didn’t want me in his life…so he walked away. The best thing I could for him was to let him go.”

“And Winston? He’s been your friend since you were…what five years old?”

“Yeah…trust me, it still hurts that he walked away too. But it was what he wanted, so I let him.”

“And what about what you wanted?”

“I kinda think that what I did cancelled out what I wanted.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Jess…they didn’t want me around anymore. They wanted me gone, what was I supposed to do?”

“Try talking to them?”

“You know me Jess…I’m not the greatest at talking.”

“You’re doing a good job right now.”

“That’s cause it's  you.”

Jess sighed and shook her head. He could practically read her mind - he knew she was thinking about how stupid he was. How stubborn and pigheaded he could be. She sat there silently - staring down at the coffee table. He watched her for a while, content in just being able to sit here quietly with her. 

There was a sudden flash of black next to him as Mary-Belle suddenly appeared on the love seat. She stood perfectly still, watching him. Nick stared back - he was keenly aware that Jess was also watching him. The cat cocked her head to the side, as though considering something…some mysterious cat thing. Then, to Nick’s complete shock, she walked slowly onto his lap, curled up and breathed a small sigh as her eyes fell shut. She was small enough that she barely covered one of this thighs. 

He instantly felt uncomfortable. He had no idea what to do, where should he put his hands or what if he shifted suddenly, would the cat freak out and scratch him? He looked up at Jess - surprise written on his face. She was watching him with a look of amusement, clearly aware of how unfamiliar he was with animals of any kind. 

“You made a friend.” She sounded incredibly tired. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a cat in my lap before.”

“Its relaxing.” She smiled softly at him. 

“Yeah…so…”

“So…”

“I’m not sure what else to say.”

“I don’t even know what to…think or say…all of this is just so hard to comprehend.”

“I’m so sorry, Jess.”

“I swear to God…if you say you’re sorry one more time.”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know…I just don’t know. God…this is all my fault.”

“No! No, its not your fault! Jess…its not! You left, sure, but you didn't make me sleep with Cece.  You didn’t make me not reach out and try to talk to Winston or Schmidt again. You didn’t do those things…I did them. I reacted to your leaving in a really immature and awful way. This is not your fault, Jess.”

“But it is. In a way, it is. My leaving you, my stupidity and depression…made you like this.”

“I would be an asshole - the world’s worst asshole - if I blamed you. You were - you are - fighting against depression…that’s not something anyone can blame you for. No. I refuse to allow you to take responsibility over this, Jess. You should be pissed at me…”

“I am. Oh, trust me, I am. But, I also have to share some of this blame, Nick. Otherwise, I’d just be a hypocrite.” Her eyes had this deep, almost infinite sadness to them. Nick could suddenly see exactly how deep that sadness went. Unlike the carefree and blissful woman he remembered, this Jess had an edge to her. A deep, hard edge that was written all over her face and shone through in her eyes. Nick finds that he’s able to get a tiny glimpse into what she went through for the last three years. Her eyes tell him exactly how sad she’s been…how lost she’s felt…because right now, she’s feeling it all over again. Because of him. He’s making her sad…he’s causing this pain. 

And behind that sadness, he can see her anger. 

Anger at him. 

Anger at Cece.

Perhaps, even anger at Winston and Schmidt for leaving him alone.

He has no idea that he’s about to ask what he does, but the words come unbidden and almost unwanted…but they come all the same. And as they do, he feels like a complete ass. “Have you heard from Cece?”

Her eyes seemed locked on the cat. A look of resignation and quiet resolution on her face. “She left LA.” 

“Oh…I didn’t know.”

“No. Why would you.”

“How did you…”

“I talked to her old roommate - the crazy European model - she told me Cece left a couple years ago. Some school thing…she wasn’t very clear.”

“Jess, would you like me to find her and explain things…”

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “No, Nick. I would like you to  _not_ do that.” She blinks rapidly and presses the heel of her palm firmly against her left eye, grunting slightly. “My contacts are bothering me. I think…I think we should call it a night, Nick.”

He glances at his watch. Its pretty much quarter to five in the morning, but Nick is not entirely surprised at the hour - he’s been keenly aware of every second they’ve spent together tonight.  Especially since he got to Jess’ apartment - carefully documenting the passage of time with her in this space on the off chance that this might be the last time he sees her. The evening - especially after the confession - has been punctuated by long protracted silences that seemed to have drawn out the moments until now. 

Together, they have watched Sunday night pass through into Monday morning. Last night, they were awake to see the city fall into its usual fevered slumber, and they’ll nearly be able to watch it start to wake up together. He knows that it won’t be long now until the sun starts casting its golden light - his favourite time. But he wonders if this will be the last time they ever pass anything like this - or anything else - together. 

He wants to know what happens next.

“Jess…will I…”

“It’s late. I want to go to bed.”

“Right. I’ll get a cab.”

“Thank you. Look…give me your number, I’m going to need to think about this. I need to think about all of this, so I think I need just a little time…a little distance for a few days.”

Nick nods. He knows what that means. He’s not an idiot…he knows. And his exhausted mind can’t help but recognize that he had this coming. Jess is asking him to leave - to leave her life, for good this time. 

The only thing he can do now is walk away. 

“Sure, Jess.” He pulls out his wallet and takes out one of his business cards. “Got a pen?” 

She gets up and walks to the kitchen, returning seconds later with a pen from some hotel in Willows, California. He figures that she must have stayed there when she drove down from Portland…if she drove here. He actually has no idea how she got back. He takes the pen and quickly scrawls his cell number on the back of the card. “Here. Call me anytime…or text, I remember you loved texting.”  

“Thanks.” She takes the card, looking briefly at it before putting it on the coffee table, next to the flyer for dance classes. Then she looks at him, her face seems unreadable - as though she’s not entirely sure what she wants to do or say. So, he makes the decision for her. 

He reaches out and gently touches her arm. “I wish…Jess…what I did, well, I wish I’d been a bigger person than that. But…the thing that always made me a better person, I was missing it.”

“What’s that?”

“You, Jess. You made me a better person…and losing you, it broke me. Its really the only explanation I have for you. Without you, I was a broken man, so I did something so stupid that I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.”

She simply nods in response, but she does slip her hand on top of his, which is resting against her bicep. 

He gives her a tiny smile. “Okay. I’m going to go. It’s definitely closing time. Call me, okay? Or come by the bar or whatever…but I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Thanks Nick.”

She walks him to the door. He glances back towards the living room, Mary-Belle is sitting on the love seat, watching him. As he watches, the cat gives him a large yawn and then nestles her head back down onto the sofa cushion. He knows that cat is going to get cuddled so hard in a few minutes…he wishes he had something besides a pillow to hug when he gets home. 

The front door is opening and then he finds himself in the hallway. She’s explaining how to get out of the complex again and that there are usually cabs driving past the building, if he doesn’t want to call an Uber. He nods and says goodbye. Her goodbye is soft and hesitant - he can’t help but wonder if she wants him to leave at all. Or does she want to bring him back inside…

He turns and walks quickly towards the stairway that will eventually guide him back outside, just as he’s about to step into the stairwell, he turns. She’s still standing there, at her door - watching him. Even in the dim light of the hallway, he can see the reflection of her tears. 

It takes everything that he has not to run back down that hallway, instead he pushes the stairwell door open and disappears through it. 

*******************

Nick watches the sunrise. He’s standing, as usual, slightly perched on the back of his sofa with a cooling cup of coffee in his hand. He had gotten home just after five in the morning, just in time to watch the sunrise. Sadly, this was one of the few times that watching the sun come up had not filled him with hope or promise or happiness - now all he felt was exhaustion and a sense of disjointedness. 

He was pretty sure that he would never see Jessica Day again. Why would he? What exactly did he have to offer her now? A constant reminder of the betrayal and hurt that he had piled at her feet tonight? Or perhaps, the ever present knowledge that he could have fallen into another woman’s arms so soon after she had departed…that other woman being her best friend, no less. No…he had nothing to offer her anymore. 

He had gotten his closure. She had - hopefully - gotten hers. Maybe they were now supposed to move on. Maybe they just weren’t meant to be together.

But even so…despite all the hurt and sadness they had managed to cause each other, he still wanted her. He had ached at not being able to touch her and comfort her tonight. It had actually felt like a physical blow to his body. And he can’t help but think about the way her voice sounded as she said goodbye - so unsure and hesitant. Did she not want this to end either? 

As Nick stared out at the LA cityscape, he understood that he had a decision to make. A very big, very important decision. He could decide to just let this be what it was - an encounter between two exes where they managed to air their dirty laundry. Or, he could actually not let go. He could fight. 

He could try to get her back. 

He could show her that the mistake he’d made all those years ago had been a mistake…and he wanted to make up for it. 

He needed to make up for it. 

Yes, Nick Miller had a decision to make. To be a passive fuck-up and let himself go back to a life of work and loneliness, or he could be active and try to get back the one person that had made him happy. 

Nick took a sip of his coffee and watched as a parking lot across from his building suddenly became bathed in golden sunlight. The sun glinted, brightly, off a cherry red car that was sitting in the middle of the lot - blinding him momentarily, even from this distance. But in that moment of blindness…he knew. 

His decision had been made. 

He wasn’t quite ready to give up…not quite yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amber Moon (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amber_Moon)


	12. Chapter 11 - The Sidecar

The car door slammed hard - narrowly missing Nick’s fingers by a matter of inches. He leaped back, a loud shout of irritation escaping his lips as he glared at his car door. He grunted in irritation - having his car door violently assault him was just another reason why he was in such a shitty mood and, although he knew it was a fucking inanimate object, he couldn’t help but feel something disturbingly close to rage towards his car…so much so that he actually had to resist punching the door. 

Nick was irritated at so many things today - the car, himself, the universe…fuck, he was just irritated at pretty much everyone and anything in existence. Fuck everything - it could all go to hell, as far as he was concerned. And all he felt was a numbing anger and a crushing sense of disappointment - especially at himself. So, yeah, Nick was in a bad mood. A very bad mood. A foul mood. In fact, he’d been in one for at least the last couple of days. It seemed as if nothing was going right. His perfect little world had been knocked on its axis and he just didn’t want to fucking deal with it all anymore. But it felt like ever since he’d made the decision that he wanted to …fight… for her that he just couldn’t get the idea that he was never going to succeed out of his brain - which translated to his current sunny disposition. 

He wanted to go back to his happy little sheltered life that revolved around the bar, creating new cocktails, losing himself in early morning sunsets and watching his bank balance steadily climb towards dizzying heights. Those were the things he wanted to be concerned with…those were the things that he wanted to be thinking and talking about!

What he didn’t want to be constantly thinking about…was her! Always her! What was she doing? Was she thinking about him? Where was she right now? Was she smiling? Was she still crying? Was she at work? Did she even have a job in LA? Was she playing with Mary-Belle? Was she eating - if so where and what? 

He felt like screaming and then punching something until every single bone in his hand was shattered. Because if he didn’t do something - soon - he was going to go insane! And because the blinding pain that would come with a shattered hand would certainly be better than this bullshit indecision! This not knowing where they stood with one another. 

Did she completely hate him now? Why had she not called? Was she packing up to move back to Portland? 

Fuck…fuckity…fuck! Nothing was going as planned. He had made his first move in trying to make amends two days ago - the Monday after their epic talk that had lasted until almost five in the morning. He’d sent her flowers. A huge bouquet of her favourite flowers with a card that just said “I’m sorry.” But that had been two days ago, and so far he’d heard absolutely nothing from her. 

Not a text message. Not a phone call. Nothing…and it was driving him mad. Mostly, because he had no idea what he should do next. Should he go back to her apartment, bringing a peace offering in person? Or would that be too much…too forward.  

Yeah…that would be too forward. Scratch that idea. 

“Fuck!” Nick screamed out as he kicked one of the tires of his dark blue Lexus Coup. He stood still for a moment, eyes closed, trying to collect himself. It wasn’t working. He was seething - he could almost feel his blood boiling. Scowling, Nick marched around to the back of the car, yanking the trunk open and pulling a pile of dry-cleaning out, which he gave a rough shake. Flipping his arm up, the dry cleaning landed with a loud thump on top of the car so he could shrug his messenger bag over his shoulder, then he elbowed the trunk closed again - grunting as a sharp spike of pain shot up his arm when it connected with the car. 

He felt slightly bad that he was treating his prized car with such…disdain…but he was just so angry that it wasn’t that big deal at the moment. Nonetheless, he paused for a moment to inspect the trunk - making sure his elbow hadn’t left some kind of indent or mark or anything. Satisfied that his car was safe from harm, he grabbed the dry-cleaning and started towards The BarRail’s front door.

Clouded by the sheer intensity of his rather black state of mine, Nick had no idea that someone was waiting for him just outside the entrance. In fact, he actually didn’t see the person standing there until a rough voice broke through the thunder clouds circling Nick’s head. 

“If you treat a sixty-thousand dollar car like that, I’d hate to see what you’d do to my shitty Honda.” 

Nick spun. Even though, he had actually been expecting this, Nick was nonetheless genuinely surprised, to find Dave Spence-Michaels leaning against the wall next to the bar’s entrance. He’d been subconsciously waiting for Dave to appear - but he’d been expecting it in the form of a phone call, not an actual visit. 

Dave was watching him - over the top of a pair of large Prada sunglasses - with a look of amused concern on his face. Dave was wearing a pair of jean shorts that ended just above the knees, a pink and blue striped tank top - which rather dramatically showed off his powerful upper body and arms - and a pair of flip flops; he had a small backpack flung over one shoulder. In one hand, he was holding a very large Starbucks iced coffee and, shockingly, a sleek black e-cigarette in the other.

Nick gestured to the cigarette. “You’re a smoker?” He asked with a tone of complete surprise.

“Reformed. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself - truth be told, I saw a woman light up a Parliament earlier today and I almost tackled her.”

“It’s a disgusting habit.”

“Hence my little electronic pal here.” Dave held up his e-cigarette.

Nick smirked - secretly judging the guy, especially considering how dumb he looked holding the stupid little black stick. “Right. So…what do you want?” Nick turned back towards the bar. 

“Well…you’re in a mood.” Dave drew heavily on his e-cig, a disgusted look on his face. Nick wasn’t sure if the look was directed at him or at Dave’s little crutch. He waved the douche-stick at Nick, “You’re growing your beard out - looks good.”

“I’m trying a new look…I’m not really in a chummy mood, Dave.”

“Who said I was your chum?”

“What?”

“I told you not to hurt her, Nick…and it sounds like you couldn’t keep that promise.”

Nick’s body sagged slightly. He didn’t have it in him to deal with this right now. “I know…and I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t want to rehash this with you.”

“Who said I wanted to talk? Maybe I’m here to punch you in your face and walk away.”

“What?! Are you threatening me.” Nick nearly dropped his dry cleaning as his eyes swept over Dave. The man was big - he clearly worked out a lot. A lot! Could Nick take him? Could Nick defend himself against this guy? Nick might be a lot bigger and stronger than he used to be, but this guy was like a mother-fucking bull. Fuck…oh fuck…he hadn’t even considered that Dave would actually follow through on what he’d said on the phone. 

Nick instinctively took a step backwards. 

Dave shook his head, a look of amusement on his face passing over his. “Well, from what she told me on the phone…you’d fucking deserve it. But, no, I’m not threatening you.”

“Then what do you want?”

Dave sighed and turned his face up towards the sky, as though he was searching for some answer to his own unspoken question. Then, turning back to Nick, he said in a voice that sounded tired and slightly irritated: “Well, since you both are completely incapable of handling this whole situation on your own, I thought I would step in.”

“What do you mean…step in?”

“Can we go inside? Somehow I don’t think you want to have this chat while standing out here with your dry cleaning.”

“Yeah…yeah, sure.” Nick shifted the dry cleaning to his other hand, using the arm closest to the door to slide the key into the deadbolt. Once the door was open, Nick quickly punched in the alarm code, ushering Dave inside. 

The empty bar was dark, silent and cool - a welcome reprieve from the intense LA summer heat - especially since the air conditioning had been running since early that morning. Nick disappeared into the bar, flicking on a few lights, casting the large room into a dim glow. Without bothering to tell Dave what he was doing, Nick slipped into the back to put his dry cleaning in his office. 

He paused for a moment relishing the darkness of his office - taking a moment to collect himself. He could feel the anger and irritation that had been plaguing him for the last couple of days settle even more intensely over him. He liked Dave well enough, but who the fuck did he think he was - he didn’t need to fixing. Nick had gotten along just fine on his own…and sure, his romantic life might such that you could never actually call it normal. And, yeah, he was a total workaholic who had a rather unhealthy attachment to his bar…but he liked it that way. He might not have a girlfriend - and it certainly seemed like he didn’t have Jess - but he didn’t need Dave stepping in and fixing him. 

He didn’t like the idea of needing to be fixed. 

He was trying…honestly trying…with Jess. But his efforts were falling on deaf ears. He had hoped the flowers would be seen as a kind of peace offering, something that would get the ball rolling on his plan to make everything up to Jess…to show her that he wanted to fight for her. Fight to maybe reclaim what they had. 

But her silence for the last few days didn’t necessarily mean that he was totally failing…right?

Nick heaved a deep breath - trying to push out the unwelcome sensation of knowing he was going to have to deal with some kind of patronizing bullshit when he stepped back out into the bar. He grit his teeth and walked out of his office. 

Dave was leaning against the bar, with his back to Nick. Dave’s tank top exposed most of the man’s back - showing off an immense tattoo that seemed to cover his entire shoulder and some of his upper back. It looked like an explosion of birds…no, not just birds, but also some kind of mythical winged creature that Nick couldn’t quick place. They were exploding out of his shoulder and taking flight across the expanse of Dave’s back. 

It was the kind of tattoo that told a story. Or at least had a story behind it. And Nick made a mental note to ask Dave about it another time - maybe when he wasn’t so irritated at the man’s presence. 

“So,” Nick started, “can I fix you a drink?”

Dave turned around. He had pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead and was lazily sucking on the straw of his iced coffee. He smirked around the straw. “Bit early for alcohol, isn’t it?”

“In my business, it’s never too early.”

“Hm. Well, all the same, I’ll stick to my coffee. Thanks, though.”

Nick shrugged and walked around the bar, slipping onto the bar stool next to Dave. “So…you’re here to fix my life, huh?”

“No…strangely enough, this isn’t some special trip where I play fairy godfather to the two of you. I’m here for personal reasons, making you and Jess talk to each other - it’ll be like the prize in the Cracker Jacks box.”

Nick eyed Dave warily. What did he mean by personal reasons? And Nick rather resented being compared to something found in a box of caramel corn. “Look, Dave, thanks…I mean that. But maybe I don’t want you to fix me. Maybe I want to get back to living my life before she came back…maybe this whole little fantasy that she and I could be friends or something more was just that. A fantasy.” Nick wondered who he was trying to convince more - himself or Dave.

The noise Dave made was some kind of cross between a snort and a laugh. He was laughing at Nick now…teasing him. Dave smirked again - still with that fucking straw clamped between his teeth. “Right…cause who doesn’t want to go back to being a lonely sad sack.”

Nick bristled. He pushed himself off the barstool and moved into Dave’s personal space. “Hey! You don’t know the first thing about me! You’ve known me less than a fucking month, pal!”

Dave gave no sign he even noticed Nick’s sudden closeness. He merely shrugged. “And were you happy? Before she came back, Nick? Were you honestly happy with your life?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Yes it is! Nick…it is so very much the point. Everything around you - your bar, your carefully organized life, your car, your home, the way you carry yourself - its all an effort to avoid what is truly bothering you. You’re lonely, Nick. I can see it. Fuck, I bet you half the people who walk into the place can see it. But I know what it feels like…because I’ve been that lonely. And no one should feel that…so, answer my question. Where you happy?”

“Fuck off.” Nick was getting even angrier. He could easily see himself taking a swing at Dave now. The fucking gall of the prick to assume that he was so lonely that he needed so jerk-face psychiatrist to help solve his problems. “Just fuck off. And while you’re at it, get the fuck out of my bar.”

Nick started to move back behind the bar again. He decided that he would go into his office, open up his spreadsheets and pretend this whole morning had never happened. 

As he stepped behind the bar, and was walking towards the his office, Dave’s voice stopped him. “You’re supposed to be with her,  you know?”

Nick turned around. “What?”

“With Jess. You’re supposed to be with her.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Dave’s voice became a harsh grumbled. “Nick…listen to me.”

“No. I’m going to work…you can fuck off. I sent her flowers. I apologized. I tried to explain…ball’s in her court now…”

Dave’s hand slammed hard against the bar. The sound and the vibrations it made rattled not only the glasses and bottles at the bar, but shook Nick into silence. He stared at Dave - who was staring, intently, back. A look of such irritation on his face it actually slightly scared Nick. 

Dave’s voice was hard and gruff - boarding on mean. “Listen to me. You and Jess are supposed to be together.”

“Why?” Nick’s voice felt small against the intensity of Dave’s.

“Because that Saturday, after she saw you, she was smiling. Not the half smiles I’ve gotten used to over the past two and a half years. Not the smiles that never quite reach her eyes or the ones where you can still see the ghost of an immense sadness weighting her down…but a real smile. A smile that said ‘hey, I might be okay.’ That’s why…that’s what you do for her, Nick. You make her smile…and I think she does the same for you.”

“Dave…I…”

“Not finished. I told you once - that day on the phone - that if you hurt her, I would destroy you. And, believe me, I will. I promise you that. Because what you did - regardless of your reasons, and I know you had them - but it was a shitty shitty thing that you did. So, I would be very warranted in coming after you, if I wanted to. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Nick took one look into Dave’s eyes and he could see - quite clearly, in fact - that this man was not always a nice as he seemed. Dave, for all extents and purposes, seemed like a very dangerous and angry bear - one who was entirely focused on protecting Jess. Slowly, Nick nodded. 

Dave grinned and then slid the straw to his iced coffee back between his teeth. Around which, he continued talking. “But, and this is a big deal, I’m giving you one chance - one. I firmly believe that you and Jess belong with each other, but things got fucked up three years ago and she lost sight of that, and then you also lost sight of it. But I think you can help her smile and she can help you feel less lonely. So, I’m offering to help - well, to a degree.”

“And how, exactly, are you going to help?”

“By getting the two of you to talk to each other.”

“I sent flowers. I reached out…”

“Yeah, you did. And I know it meant a lot to her, but she’s hurt and sad and not sure what to do next…so, I’m going to give this thing a little push.”

“How?”

“What do you know about Firefly?”

“The TV show?”

“No…Nick. And since I don’t think either you or Jess are space pirates, I doubt that’s going to help. I meant the restaurant.”

“Oh…” Nick’s eyes grow wide at the mention of that name. As a memory slams into his brain - one so visceral and real that it feels like he’s no longer actually in his bar, but has travelled five years back in time. Back to a moment when he’s standing in his one good suit, wearing his one good tie, waiting by the front door to the loft for Jess to finish getting ready so they don’t miss a dinner reservation for, what felt like, one of the most important dates of his life. 

*****

_*Five Years Ago*_

_Somehow_ ,  _in a city like Los Angeles, Nick’s managed to score a reservation for tonight at one of the hottest places in the city - Firefly in Studio City. He knew that calling on the same day that he wanted a table was risky, but the fates are smiling on him right now. He managed to get a table at a restaurant that Thrillist called one of the most romantic restaurants the entire city._

_Ever since he and Jess had gotten back together a week ago, it seemed as though they just had no time to go on a proper date. The Saturday and Sunday after, what he was calling ‘Relationship Resurrection Day’ had been taken up with…well the more physical aspects of their relationship, and then all week long she’d been totally crazy at school, plus it felt like he’d been working almost ever single night shift - which was making him a little crazy. So, he’d put his foot down - telling Mike that he wanted this Saturday AND Sunday off. And then he’d explicitly told Jess that under no circumstances was she to make plans for Saturday (or Sunday for that matter…although he wasn’t actually planning on leaving the bedroom, to be honest)._

_But tonight, he was taking her out. And he was taking her out in style._

_So…he’d sat his ass down and started reading about romantic restaurants - none of this roadside taco joints for his girl. He wanted an excuse for her to get gussied up! He wanted to show her off a little. Which eventually led him to Firefly…a choice that had garnered a very enthusiastic thumbs up from Cece and, surprisingly Schmidt._

_And, he’d gotten them a reservation…he’d planned! He had his act together!_

_But now…well, if she didn’t hurry the damn up, they were going to miss that eight o’clock reservation. He wondered, briefly, if he should just go and tap on her door, a gentle nudge to get going. But then…oh holy fuck…she walked into the living room. The moment he saw her, two things happened. First, he felt his stomach drop. The second, well, he insanely got hard._

_She was wearing a knee length, black dress with a plunging neckline that reached almost to her bellybutton - the deep V of the dress giving just enough of a hint of the alluring skin beneath it to make him want to see more, but not so much that the dress could be called slutty. The dress kind of fell in waves of fabric around her, in some ways, he could only think of it as being a series of elaborate folds…it was amazing. Every curve of her body was highlighted. On her feet, she wore a pair of bright blue pumps - they glinted in the light of the loft. And around her neck, a simple gold chain with a small locket that rest alluringly in the space between her breast; in her ears, had wore a pair of simple diamond studs. Her hair hung down, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Smiling broadly, she spun for him - the skirt flaring out as she did - showing off her long, gorgeous legs. Plus, he was amazed to see that the back of the dress was merely a intricate series of straps, holding the whole thing together._

_He stood there, staring._

_“Is this okay?” She sounded unsure of herself. “Cece helped me figure out what to wear…she said that my original plan was too ‘old maid’ for a date like this.” She even made the air quotes in the air, rolling her eyes as she did._

_He opened and closed his mouth slowly…no words were coming out. His throat had gone incredibly dry._

" _Nick…are you okay?” She moved forward and put her hand on his arm._

_He blinked and looked down at her hand. Then he remembered the date. Their date…and holy fuck, every fucking fucker in that restaurant was going to be jealous of him because he was walking in there with her. Dressed like this. He nodded._

_“Jesus…Jess…you…you…look…perfect. Beautiful.”_

_She grinned and gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you. Now, we should get going…or they’re going to give our table away!”_

_The restaurant itself was…expensive in a way that only an LA restaurant could be. The main dining area was set up like some kind of Moroccan poolside patio or something - complete with a series of cabanas, whose doors you could actually close. He’d asked, when making reservation, for one of those. But it was pretty obvious that he would need to grease the wheel with the hostess when they got there. A fifty did the trick. (He sent a silent thank you tip gods for helping him out at the bar this week!)_

_The place was cool…cooler than any place he and Jess had ever been to on any date in their previous attempt at a relationship. They ordered cocktails - he got himself this crazy Pumpkin Spice Side Car thing and, while he sipped at it, he couldn’t help but wonder about how it was made and whether he’d ever be able to come up with something this cool._

_She’d nursed her Strawberry Swing and laughed at his stupid bartender jokes about the drinks._

_Dinner…was fucking magical. That was the only way he could ever think to describe it. They’d each had the tasting menu - he knew she’d suggested it only so he wouldn’t be laying down three hundred bucks for the dinner. He silently thanked her for that._

_But watching her eat that food - the way she blushed when she loved something. The way her eyes became bright and excited with each new course…he realized that he wanted to find a way to have enough money to make sure he could watch her experience this all the time._

_He reached out at one point - as she was about to take a bite of their Bailey’s Ice Cream - and said softly, “Jess…thank you. For being here, with me. I’m still…struggling to believe this is happening. But, I just wanted to say - I love you.”_

_She beamed at him around her spoon. Then, before she replied, she very carefully made sure the utensil was licked perfectly clean (she had no idea what she was doing to him!). “Nick…I love you too. Now, stop being so soppy and mushy and eat! Seriously, this dessert might be better than sex.”_

_“Is that a challenge?”_

_She looked startled. Until a very sly grin took over her face. “Yes…it is…now taste, so you know what you're competing against!”_

_He picked up his spoon and took a bite…fuck, she might almost be right. Almost._

_After dinner - and dessert, which did indeed almost made Nick cry, it really was that good - they were walking out of the restaurant. She was tucked up against him - he had one arm draped across her shoulders. They were about to get a cab back to the loft, when she turned to him._

_“Okay, crazy idea here - but hear me out.”_

_“All ears.”_

_“Want to walk on Ventura for a while?”_

_“That is a crazy idea…not exactly the most scenic. Or most sane.”_

_“But…entertaining…”_

_“Yeah…definitely that. So, yeah! Let’s…I’m not ready to call it a night anyways.”_

_They turned onto Ventura Boulevard, heading away from the San Diego Freeway, and wandered deeper into Studio City. Eventually his arm slipped from her shoulder, but his hand quickly found her’s and laced their fingers together. And as she jokingly tired to convince him to get a tattoo, he smiled and knew…he just fucking knew…he didn’t need to get a tattoo, because this thing with Jess…_

_…it was already a permanent thing._

_***********_

*Present Day*

Nick stifled a sigh as that evening with Jess played out in his mind. His eyes flicked back to Dave, who was watching him with his head cocked slightly to one side - with that irritating penetrating and evaluative look on his face. Nick nodded. “Yeah…I know it. Jess and I…we went on a date there once.”

“I know.” Dave’s face morphed into a grin. 

“Then why did you ask if I know it?”

“To see if you know the dress code and shit like that.”

“Why?”

“Because Jess and I are going to have dinner there tonight…only, I’m not going to show up. You are.”

Nick stared at Dave for a moment - not quite believing exactly what he’d just heard. Then, quite unexpectedly, a bubble of laughter started forming in his chest. Slowly, it started rising higher and higher…he could hear himself start to giggle…until, all at once he started barking with laughter. A laughter so intense that Nick actually doubled over. The laughter was surging forward, ceaselessly wracking his body. He reached out and grabbed hold of the bar in an attempt to prevent himself from falling on the floor. 

He let the laughter roll over his body - it was the kind of laughter that almost feels like it might escalate into hyperventilation. But even so, it felt so fucking awesome. As his gut seized with the muscle spasms wracking his body, he wrapped an arm around his mid-section, fully aware of the intense pain that was starting to build up inside him. And, suddenly, he realized he wasn’t even making noise anymore - the laughter had become a silent laughter. Even more of a sign that he was one step away from hyperventilating. Opening his mouth, he started to take deep breaths, fighting to get the laughter under control. 

After a while, his breathing started to return to normal and, still clutching the bar, he slowly pulled himself back upright. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and looked at Dave, shaking his head…a smile still playing at his lips. 

“Fuck…thanks, man. I needed that.”

Dave was staring at him, a serious and unhappy look on his face. And Nick instantly knew he’d just fucked something up - was Dave fucking serious? He actually wanted Nick to just show up and surprise Jess at the restaurant where they’d had their (second) first date. Fuck that noise.

“You’re serious? Holy shit, you’re fucking serious.”

“Yes, I am. The only way you and Jess are going to actually have a conversation will be by sitting down in the same room at the same time - and since it seems that she’s not going to be coming by anytime soon and you’re too much of a chicken shit to go other - this will have to do.”

“I’m not a chicken shit. I sent…”

“Sent flowers. Yes I know. And then what?”

“Huh?”

“What else did you do? Did you follow that up with a phone call or did you pop over to say ‘hi, I know I fucked up…but can we maybe talk?’ No…you didn’t. You’re disappearing back into yourself - into your bar. I can tell.”

“So…what…you think if I just show up tonight that Jess will be swept off her feet, we’ll have a perfect night and then BAM(!) we’ll walk off into the sunset together?”

“Well…I don’t know what…”

“This isn’t some fucking Katherine fucking Heigl romcom!”

“I never said it was!”

“I did something bad - like really bad, okay? And she’s asked me to leave her alone for a while, and I guess she really meant it. I couldn’t just show up at her apartment and ask her to talk to me, I’d be a huge asshole if I did that. And…”

“Shut up, Nick.” 

“Excuse me? Who the fuck do you…”

“Just listen to me, okay? Because I really am trying to help you.”

“This is a stupid plan!”

“Listen to me!”

“Fine…”

Dave rolled his eyes and sucked up the last of his coffee - Nick could see the wheels in the man’s head turning. Nick - being a bartender - was so used to watching people deal with any number of situations. He often watched men and women work out how to approach someone they were in interested in, or work out how to get away from someone they really didn’t want to be spending time with…he’d always like the term ‘seeing the wheels spinning’ when talking about watching someone think. And he’d gotten used to seeing exactly that in his years working in bars. But never had that term seemed more apt than it did right now. Nick could practically hear gears moving as he watched Dave think. Dave was obviously picking his words out as carefully as he possibly could - he had a point to make.

And for Dave, who was one of those people who despised having to make a point more than once, he needed to be completely clear. In fact, there are very few things in the world that actually irritated Dave more than having to repeat himself - which, in as a mental health professional - was bit of an occupational hazard. So, while Nick - still slightly sweaty and aching from his laughing fit - silently watched, Dave figured out exactly what he needed to say. He knew he had one shot at this. Because, Nick, while still in love with Jess (which was so obvious it was almost a joke), wasn’t going to allow himself to get any more than he already had. And it was exactly the same with Jess. 

So, if Dave got this wrong - or he misfired - Nick would probably just disappear into the very safe and very small world he had created for himself over the last three years. While, Jess would in all probability just crumble and lose herself into the depression she’d worked so hard to get out of. Which meant that Dave needed to be very careful about how he approached this…because Nick also only had one shot. Just one to make things right again…and get his relationship - or whatever - with Jess back on track. 

Dave put his spent coffeecup down on the bar - Nick resisted reaching about to grab the cup before the condensation marked the treated wood. But, for some reason, he could feel the weight of this moment. 

“Nick…” Dave started quietly. “…can you answer one question?”

Nick searched Dave’s face for some indication of what he was walking into. But all he saw was that same inquisitive expression. Swallowing thickly, Nick let himself be taken down whatever road Dave was about to lead him on. “What?”

“Do you still love Jess?”

The silence that follows the question is utterly deafening. Those are the words that Nick has been running from for so long. Running and hiding from for three years - desperate to avoid thinking about how they might still affix themselves to him. When Jess had broken up with him, he’d started running…running hard to get away from the immense hurt those words could cause him. Then, he’d decided that after what happened three years ago, Jess’ leaving, his utter fuck up with Cece and the loss of his closest friendships…well, he’d simply affixed a truck load of negative emotions to those words. Thus, he’d take them and locked them away in a very tightly sealed box at the back of his subconscious. However, when Jess walked back into his life almost a month ago…he’d felt that box starting to open…and so, it felt like he’d started running again. 

Because…because…he didn’t…he couldn’t…he shouldn’t…love her

Because that emotion - that huge and powerful emotion - could hurt him. Had hurt him. And he was terrified that…

Terrified that…

Jess wouldn’t love him back? (Then why did she come home to LA?) That maybe there was too much between them now…too much hurt, too much distance…for love to enter into this whole thing?

He could lie - right now, right here, he could lie. And then he could keep running…he could run back to his spreadsheets, or his condo, or his bar and his carefully crafted drinks and his memories of the past. 

Or…

“Yes. I do.”

He could say it. 

Dave smiled and breathed a small sigh of relief. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure she does too. Now, I know that the idea of just showing up at the restaurant tonight sounds like some shitty Hollywood plot - but then again, we are in Hollywood, right?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s going to work, Dave.”

“Nick, when I spoke to her after your chat on the weekend, I could actually hear her teetering on the edge of an depressive episode. My coming here, partly, is to try and help her - and I think this is doing exactly that. I’m not saying its a perfect plan, but short of throwing you in a room and locking the door…this is the best I can come up with. She’s told me everything about you - its no accident that I picked Firefly. If you can pull this off…if you can actually try and re-create something of that first date there, maybe this can come out just the way you need it to. The way the both of you need it to.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?”

“Put on a suit…pick out your favourite tie…whatever makes you comfortable or you think will impress. And then go and have dinner with her. Be charming. Be fun. But, most of all, talk.”

“She’ll walk out when she sees me.”

“No. Somehow, I don’t think she will.”

“Dave…this is stupid…this won’t…”

“Yes it will.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because I need to be.”

“Why is this important to you?”

“Because Jess is my best friend, Nick. And because…well, let’s just say I need her in my corner for what’s coming next.”

 “What the fuck does…”

“Personal reasons, Nick. But that’s not the point - the point is that you have a dinner to get to tonight at eight.” Dave smiled as he pushed himself off the barstool and stretched - Nick heard what sounded like a million muscles and joints pop and crack. He watched, slightly awed, as the muscles in Dave’s arms, neck and chest bulged dramatically. “Okay…look, Nick, I know this is probably a dumb idea - but so far, your whole reunion with Jess has been a series of dumb ideas. First, the idiotic notion that she had to send Chris and I to do recon on you out before she could come talk to you. Or your terrible job of avoiding the whole situation after we spoke that first time. To both of you not being able to actually say what needs to be said to each other…”

“And what’s that?”

“That you love one another. For fuck’s sake…bad things happen to people all the time. And you and Jess had to deal with bad shit - very bad shit - but that is no reason at all for you two to not be a part of each other’s lives. You love her. She loves you - of that I’m sure. So, quit it with the fucking bad ideas and just talk to each other.”

“I’ll…I’ll try.” Nick is actually surprised at how confident he sounds. 

“Good. Go to dinner. Now, I have to go.”

“Dave, why are you in LA?”

Dave just shook his head, a small smile on his face. “I’ll see you later, Nick. I’m sure I’ll hear from one of you soon.” He turned and walked towards the door to the bar, slipping his sunglasses on as he pushed open the door into the blinding LA sun. For a moment, he was framed in the doorway - like some kind of shadowy mentor character in a fantasy novel or something…the guy that helps the hero on his journey…and then he was gone. 

Nick stood there for a while staring at the closed door. He was totally unsure of exactly what had just happened. Well, one thing had happened…his bad mood had disappeared - entirely. 

Dave Spence-Michaels was perhaps one of the strangest men Nick had never met. He seemed to look at the world with a kind of experienced, but cynical eye; yet, at the same time the guy seemed to be a hopeless romantic. All the same, Nick was sure of one thing - Dave was fiercely protective of Jess. But this plan…this weird romcom plan…it had idiocy written all over it. But then again, Dave was a psychiatrist. So, maybe this was some kind of weird psychiatric trick or something. Or maybe, Dave really was one of those guys who just wanted love to conquer all. 

Either way, Nick had a dinner date. Tonight. With Jess…

Holy fuck.

He was going on a (blind) date…the blind date to end all blind dates! 

But what was even more impressive than that was the fact that Nick had done it. Nick had said the words aloud. He’d finally admitted to still being in love with Jess. Of course, he hadn’t yet managed to say them to Jess herself, but baby steps right?

All at once, Nick realized that if he was going to go on this dinner date, he needed to plan for that. Which meant, getting coverage for the bar! Alerting his staff…making sure the bar was ready for a night without the boss. Shit. He had things to do…he needed to call Charlie. He had to make sure they had enough staff members. He had to check any specials happening tonight…confirm VIPS and reservations…

He also needed a haircut. 

—/—

Firefly was perhaps the most concealed restaurant in all of LA. It was one of those places that you had to know exactly where you were going, because they weren’t going to tell you when you’d arrived. The large box like building was almost entirely covered with vines, with the exception of the roof - which was one long skylight, meant to help the restaurant capture its indoor/outdoor patio feel. There was no obvious sign for the restaurant - except a small plaque on the large wooden door that served as the restaurant’s entrance. 

The moment you stepped inside the restaurant, you were immediately transported into a dimly lit, intimate space with soft ambient techno music playing, cool air and an intoxicating blend of smells - garlic and cumin from the kitchen, gin from the bar and something exotic hanging just underneath that Nick couldn’t put his finger on.

Standing just inside the door, was a tall brunette, holding an iPad mini, smiling welcomingly. He returned the smile - despite the explosion of nervous butterflies in his stomach. 

“Hello, welcome to Firefly.” 

“Uh…hi…I’m supposed to be meeting someone.” He had timed his arrival for exactly ten minutes later than the reservation - he wanted her to be sitting down when he arrived. Maybe that was cruel and cowardly of him - boxing her in, making it nearly impossible to run when she saw him. But he was pretty sure he couldn’t handle watching her walk towards him, see him, and then turn to leave. Of course, he was also pretty certain that if she did get up from the table and walk away, that he’d most certainly totally lose it. 

“Of course. The name?”

“Uh, Dave Spence-Michaels?” He’d completely forgotten to actually ask Dave what name the damn reservation was under - fuck. And now saying it like a question made him sound like a total idiot.

“Yup!” The girl smiled broadly, not commenting on his tone - if she even noticed it. “Your friend has already arrived - we have you seated in one of our cabanas, as requested.” 

Of course. Thanks Dave…maximum romance, huh, buddy?

As if by some kind of magic act, a second woman - dressed in a knee length black dress - appeared next to the hostess, also smiling at him. All this smiling was starting to give him the creeps. She nodded towards the back of the restaurant - “Right this way, sir.” She spun on her precarious looking heel and moved off quickly - he actually had to hurry to keep up with her. 

He remembered much of this from last time. First the long room that housed the restaurant’s bar, which then opened into what they referred to as the ‘library lounge, where they only served small plates and drinks. He remembered commenting to Jess that it felt like a Victorian Gentlemen’s Club - which it still did. And then, you were stepping out of the stuffy lounge an into the open and spacious dining room - with its long skylight, small lanterns that cast the room in a dim orange-y glow, small wooden tables clustered in the middle of the room, and of course the cabanas that boarder the room - many of which had their curtains drawn.  

Nick’s eyes scanned the room, searching for her. It’s on his second go around that he sees her - sitting alone in a small cabana at the far end of the room - staring down at the menu in front of her. She looks completely at east, probably because she thinks she’s just waiting for Dave - her best friend - and not him, the asshole.

The waitress - or sub-hostess or whatever she is - is leading him directly towards Jess. His stomach feels like there’s a million very angry butterflies now swarming around inside him. He wants to run away. A series of images flash through his mind - all of them bad: her slapping him again, throwing water in his face, screaming at him in the middle of the restaurant, stabbing him with a fork… As he gets closer to the table, he keeps his eyes locked on her - she still hasn’t looked up. He knows she will…but for the moment, he can just look. 

Despite the fact that she’s sitting down, he can tell that she’s wearing a patterned blue dress - with small white and black birds on it. He imagines it’s probably cinched at the waist with some kind of belt. She has very little make up on - just a spread of blush, light pink lipstick and a bit of eyeshadow - and her hair is pulled back into a pony tail, giving him a full view of her face. He’s surprised to see that she’s wearing her glasses too - normally when she goes out, she prefers her contacts - but then again, she wasn’t anticipating a date of any kind, this was supposed to be two best friends having dinner. 

He has maybe five seconds before they arrive at the table. 

And just as he’s soaking in the sight of the long curve of her neck, she looks up and sees him. 

Okay, here it comes…the anger. 

Her face colours immediately, a blush that spreads from her collar bone all the way up to her forehead. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t look shocked or surprised…or hurt. In fact, she looks like the only thing she’s surprised about is his appearance. Which he’s not entirely upset about. He did take some pains to make sure he looked his best tonight. 

He was wearing his absolute best suit - a Ted Baker that he’d picked up at Nordstrom a few months ago, it had been on sale and was probably the sexiest item of clothing he owned. The suit, which was fitted so it hugged his chest and back perfectly to show off his newly developed musculature, was a deep dark blue. He’d paired with a simple white shirt - left open at the collar to show off his neck, giving the barest hint of his chest hair. On his feet, he’s sporting his brown Cole Haan wing-tips, plus in the pocket of his blazer he has a patterned pocket square - a small embellishment tip that he picked up online. He’d also carefully trimmed his beard so it looked even and clean, despite growing rather full, and he’d managed to get that hair cut - although he’d been forced to break his rule of never paying more than twenty-five bucks for a hair cut. (Hey, he might have money now, but he still has scruples). 

So, he knows that he looks good. He knows he looks fucking hot. And yeah, he wanted her to see it too. He had arrived dressed to impress - even if all he walks away with tonight is the memory of that blush and those widening eyes, it’ll be enough. 

She didn’t bother getting up as he walks up to the table. The girl - waitress, sub hostess, whatever - makes some comment about their server being along shortly and then disappears, leaving a trace of some expensive perfume in the air. 

Nick smiles as he slides into the chair across from her, trying his best to look confident and calm. He starts to say something, but she suddenly laughs and shakes her head. 

“Asshole.”

Oh…well…this was getting off to a great start. He’s barely sat down and she’s already calling him an asshole. Fuck…why had he listened to Dave? Why?!

“Not you, Nick.” She’s smiling. 

She was smiling at him. Oh. Holy crap…she was actually smiling at him. She wasn’t mad at him…okay, she was probably still pretty fucking mad at him, but she wasn’t throwing water in his face or stabbing him or anything like that. 

“Oh.” That single syllable is all he manages to croak out. 

She just shakes her head again. “I knew he’d do something like this. He was acting all weird on the phone yesterday and today…and when he said he wanted to come here, I knew he’d pull something.”

Nick wanted to tell her about how Dave had talked him into this - about how Nick had laughed at the plan at first, but Dave’s unwavering conviction that this was the best idea possible had somehow changed his mind. He wanted to ask about Dave’s weird ‘personal reasons’ for being in LA and about the douchey e-cigarette the man had been sucking on. But, none of those things come out. Instead, all he manages to mutter is, “I’m sorry…” 

“Why? Sorry for what?”

“Everything.” And it’s true. Suddenly, those butterflies turn into wasps - and the sadness and anger and disappointment he’s been struggling with since Sunday just surges up and knocks him flat on his ass. Nick can feel a sob rising in his throat. Shit…he’s going to cry. Shit. Shit. His face crumples and he sucks in a hard breath. “Fuck…fuck…” He looks away as tears burn his eyes and a soft sob escapes his throat. 

And naturally, that’s the exact moment the fucking waiter choses to appear, ready to wow them with the day’s specials and give them to a guided tour of the whole menu. Nick clenches his eyes closed, willing the tears to just go away. They don’t. But he needs to buck up and deal…So, he clears his throat, wipes his eyes, and turns to look at the waiter. He can see Jess watching him with a very worried look on her face. 

The waiter, of course, is regarding him with a look of pity. 

(What, asshole, you’ve never cried in a restaurant before?)

It’s Jess who breaks the silence. She smiles at the waiter, “You were saying about the specials?” Never before had Nick been so glad to have someone else just…white wash a situation as Jess is doing to do right then. He gives her a grateful smile. 

Ten minutes later, after a nearly endless list of specials and a truly detailed explanation of the menu, the waiter has slipped off with their drink order. Nick nearly applauded at the sight of the guy’s back. When he turned to look at Jess, her face is again etched with worry. 

“Are you okay?” She leans forward a bit, putting her elbow on the table. He notices that she’s wearing a chunky silver and coral bracelet that he remembers from years ago. 

He let the question hang there for a moment, eventually deciding to answer with the truth. 

“No.”

“Nick, I…”

“It’s okay, Jess. I’m sorry I got all emotional - but all I’ve been feeling the last couple days is…well…anger and disappointment. Anger at everything - especially myself - and disappointment at myself for doing what I did. Heck, I almost started convincing myself that it would be a good thing if you didn’t call or anything again…that maybe I should just go back and live my life the way I have been because it’s what I deserve.”

“Nick…I’m sorry I didn't call, I just wanted a couple days to think about things. But, thank you for the flowers - they were lovely.”

“You’re welcome.” The confidence that Nick had almost felt when he walked into the restaurant has completely deflated. He feels totally at a loss. All day long, he’d been working himself into a state about how he was going to talk to her - building his confidence over how he was going to communicate whatever it was he was feeling. And now, all of a sudden - he just couldn’t find it in him to do so. 

“Nick…can you look at me?” He slowly brings his eyes up to lock with hers. She smiles. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah - of course!” 

She starts to speak, but that infernal waiter suddenly reappears with their drinks. (Nick will be shocked if he doesn’t strangle the man by the end of the meal.) The waiter places Jess’ sangria in front of her with a grin, but when he plunks down Nick’s old fashioned, all Nick gets is a frown of sympathy - great, the guy probably thinks Nick’s getting shot down and is all emotional and weepy about it. He scowls at the waiter’s back. 

Jess reaches over and touches his hand. Right… she was about to say something. Something probably important. He looks back at her. “Sorry…you were going to tell me something.”

“Right…Nick, when I asked Dave and Chris to look in on you and they told me about how great you seemed to be doing - owning a bar, being all successful, even mentioning you looked like you were working out - well, I decided that maybe you would be ok seeing see me. Like maybe, you could handle it, that maybe my leaving hadn’t totally destroyed you or anything. And, I guess Dave mentioned that you seemed…off when he mentioned me. But I figured it had to be because I was back so suddenly - that it was mostly a kind of shock or something. Plus, I figured that after you knew I was back, you’d go straight to Schmidt and Winston and get advice or support…that they’d be there for you, with you. Heck, I half expected to walk into your apartment and find Schmidt there, making inappropriate jokes or something. But then, two weeks ago, I did walk into your apartment…only none of those things happened. Instead, I encountered this lonely guy who makes double sure that his milkshakes are low fat because he almost had a heart attack. I met a guy who has only one friend. I met a guy whose world seems to start and ends at his bar…and…” Jess trails off, her eyes watering. She grabs her purse, sitting next to her on the table, and pulls out a small bunch of tissues, which she carefully dabs her eyes with. 

“Jess…I’m…”

“No, just let me talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you deserve to be this lonely guy, because you don’t. What you told me on Sunday - it hurt. Wow, did it ever hurt. But…it was a mistake, right?”

“Yes! Jess…it was probably my least proud moment. I’ve regretted it so much.”

“So, look, I can’t ask you to forgive me for running away like I did and not try to at least…understand…what happened between you and Cece. That would just be unfair of me…so…”

She closed her eyes and sucks in a deep breath. Whatever she’s about to say - he’s either about to get handed his walking papers…or…something much better is about to happen. 

“…maybe we can try to work past it? To talk…and see if we can’t just move past it. Because…I want to.”

Nick stares at her…dumbfounded. Was this really going to be that easy? Was this really how it was going to work out? He’d expected her to be completed blindsided and pissed at him for showing up here tonight…and instead, he’s getting handed an olive branch. There’s no way this was going to be that easy. There’s no way that this…romcom little scene is working? 

Maybe Dave isn’t a psychiatrist…maybe he’s a Madge. 

“What?” His voice sounds a little unreal to him. 

She looks at him rather questioningly. 

“No, seriously…Jess…it can’t be that easy. Three days ago, you were epically pissed at me. And, suddenly its all okay? I don’t…what’s going on. This isn’t how this goes…”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not? Its just not…I hurt you, I slept with Cece.”

“And I ran away from you and lied about why I left and kept a miscarriage and my depression from you.”

“But you had reasonable reasons for that…I didn’t. I don’t deserve…”

“Nick…if you tell me you don’t deserve to be forgiven for a mistake, I will slap you again.”

“But…it can’t just be that easy…aren’t we supposed to fight and scream and throw things?”

“Do you want to do that? We can…might be fun to cause a scene in here.”

“What? No…I don’t want to do that. Do you have any idea how stressful that is for the poor people who work at a place like this…”

She laughs. It sounds magical and musical. “Okay…so, what would rather do?”

“I don’t know…fuck…this is not what I expected.”

“You were expecting angry Jess - ready for a fight?”

“Yeah…like that old music video you used to like.”

“Which one?”

“The Taylor Swift one - with the explosions and the crazy women.”

“I wouldn’t blow you up, Nick. All I want is to talk…get things out in the open and move on.…”

Nick nods. Out of the corner of his eye he can see his good pal the waiter hovering - probably desperate for either gossip about the teary eyed couple at his table or he just wants to take their dinner order. He nods his head towards the waiter and stifles a laugh when he sees Jess roll her eyes. 

Holy fuck, what is happening here!? 

He walked into the damn restaurant expecting…what exactly? Expecting a rage filled Jess - but instead he’s being given a détente - an offer of understanding, a fucking peace treaty. A chance at working things out. This is unheard of in their history together - usually when they fight, it’s all guns blazing. But…she wants to work things out. She wants to talk…maybe her friendship with Dave rubbed off on her more than Nick had realized. 

But how exactly is he going to even start telling her things. Should he start with the big one - the big ‘L’ word or work his way up to that. He’s pretty sure that a truce would disappear pretty dark fast if he just drops that bomb on her…so maybe don’t start there. But even so, he needs to start somewhere. 

As the waiter drifts over, hoping for a meal order, Nick runs through all the possible starting points. All the ways to open up that line of dialogue. Nick doesn’t really register giving his order - he’s pretty sure he just ordered some kind of peach salad to start and the pork chop. He half listens as Jess orders the peach salad and the chicken. 

But the majority of his brain is lining up verbal bowling pins - points of discussion to try to illustrate all the things he wants her to know. All the ways he can make her understand his feelings for her. 

(Unfortunately, Nick is still Nick…so what he ends up starting with, is perhaps not the best jumping off point.) 

Jess is saying something…he should probably focus. 

“Sorry?”

“I said, are you planning on coming back to the table anytime soon?”

“Oh…right…sorry, I drifted away. I…uh…was thinking about what to say to you.”

“You don’t have to script this out, Nick. You never did the in the past…why start now?”

“Because I’m terrified I’m going to fuck up?”

“You won’t…”

“How about we talk about…food or you or something…but…”

“Nick…talk to me.”

Ok, so she definitely wasn’t going to let him get away with not talking. He sighed, then looked down at the amber liquid in his glass for a moment - he needs to figure out exactly how to tell her this. He knew he’s about to take a huge gamble, but he needs to say it. He need to try. 

He takes a deep breath - and then…he takes the plunge. When he speaks, his voice sounds foreign and otherworldly to him. “You broke our promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sidecar - (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sidecar_(cocktail)
> 
> The restaurant that Nick and Jess are at - Firefly in Studio City - is real and it looks amazing! Here's the URL any LA residents out there (http://fireflystudiocity.com/)


	13. Chapter 12 - Prelude to a Kiss

…”You broke our promise.”

She’s confused. Its pretty evident given the look on her face as he say those words - those fucked up, idiotic words. She’s confused…and perplexed. But when it comes right down to it, he’s right. He’s absolutely god damn right…she did break their promise. And he really needs her to remember that promise. If she can - if she just recall what they’d once said to each other - then they’re one step closer to actually getting past all this. One step closer to finding their…grove again. So, he silently wills her to think back - to remember what they’d committed to. He doesn’t want to have to spell it out - that might actually made him feel worse than he already does, plus it would help so much to have take that one little step and remember with him.

“Nick, I’m not sure…”

Okay, so he is going to have to explain. And when you think about it, it’s not entirely super surprising that she’s forgotten…hell, a lot has happened to her since they made that promise. He sighs, but makes sure to follow it up with a smile.

“Our promise, Jess. The promise we made to always talk to each other.”

“Oh…” He watched as a light goes off in her brain - she remembers. She knows exactly what he’s talking about.   He clears his throat - the burn of his tears from moments ago still lingeing at the back of his throat, but he ignores it and presses on. “I was so proud of myself, Jess. I had done so well - I told you everything. I held nothing back and I thought we were going really make it because we had made that promise. Whenever I got scared, I talked to you. When you got scared, you talked to me. When we were sad - we talked. When we were happy…we talked. It felt like we were really adults, you know, always talking - communicating. It was like we were actually a couple…a real couple. And then…you broke that promise. And it felt like you were spitting in the face of that commitment…of that promise.”

“I…”

He shook his head, he had some stuff to get out - he needed her to just let him talk. She smiled - getting his point. “Jess, I’m not blaming you - okay - I don’t want us to just keep blaming each other about all this. I mean, if your serious about wanting to work this out - wanting to move past all this bullshit…”   “I am! Nick, I really am.”

“Then I just want you to know how I feel…cause if we can do that, Jess, then maybe then we can both stop blaming each other or hurting so much…I mean Dave said…”

A look of surprise comes over her face. “What did Dave say? And when did you talk to him?”

“Uh…this morning…” Nick suddenly feels insanely bashful and confused all at once - Jess should have figured out that he and Dave had talked…why else would Nick be here right now? But at the same time, he had expected Jess’s curiosity about what had happened with Dave. “He just told me to - uh - come talk to you.”

“Nick…” She sounded a touch irritated, she clearly wasn’t going in for any kind of vague answer. He frowned and nervously twisted his cocktail around in his hands.

“Uh…he said that I made you smile…after you saw me that Saturday, he said that you were smiling in like a real way.”

“Oh…Nick, I…I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Do I?”

“What?”

“Make you smile…in a real way…do I still make you smile? Before I finishing telling you what I think I need to tell you, can you just answer that?”

Her breath seems to almost catch in her throat. He can see her try to work out the answer to his question - perhaps she is just trying to put the correct words together or maybe she’s trying to figure out some way of letting him down easy or…whatever…but she clearly wasn’t expecting this question. He imagines that out of all the possible questions that she might have anticipated being asked when he sat down, this was not very high on the list.

He picks up his drink - a Sidecar, just like last time - and slowly sips it. He’s not entirely sure what his next move is going to be here, although he’s worried that he unconsciously knows exactly what he’s going to say to her.

He’s just terrified at how she might react.

He hears her sigh softly across the table - the silence that has fallen over them has lasted much longer than what would be considered normal in a situation like this. The silence starts to shift, quite unexpectedly, becoming distinctly uncomfortable.

“Jess…?”

She looks up from her drink, which she’s been examining rather closely. She gives him barely a ghost of a smile and opens her mouth to speak. Sadly, just as she does, a plate of food appears in front of him.

(Damn that dip-shit waiter!)

“Here you go, Sir…” the waiter’s voice had shifted from their last encounter - it almost sounds pompous, there was a touch too much enthusiasm there. The waiter grinned at Nick, “Our pork chop with sweet potato gnocchi and raddicho with a brown butter sage glaze. And for the lady, our chicken with bacon, honey dates and a meyer lemon sauce! Is there anything else I can get for you?”

(Yes, you can get the fuck away from us!)

Jess just smiles and shakes her head, while Nick mutters that they’re fine. The waiter beams at them one last time before disappearing and leaving them to their food.

Nick gives his food a cursory glance, it looks fine, but he’s just not invested in it. He’s invested in Jess’ answer…it feels as thought there’s a lot is riding on that answer. He looks back up at Jess, who has become very focused on the food in front of her. He can see a slight blush has come back to her face - a blush suggesting she’s embarrassed by something. So, he does the only thing he can think of to do - he reaches over and touches her hand.

She jumps slightly, looking up at him, surprised.

“Ok, so ignoring our idiot waiter’s terrible timing…do you, Jess?”

Slowly, she gives his hand a soft squeeze and then pulls back to pick up her fork and knife. She carefully cuts a piece of chicken and then - with a look of concentration - transfers the piece over to his plate. Wordlessly, she slips the chicken next to his pork chop. Watching her do this is more of an answer than actual words could ever be. He lets a smile fall over his face as he picks up his own utensils, cutting off a piece of his chop, which he then carefully puts on her plate.

For years, when they were a couple, whenever they went out to dinner, before they would even think about trying their food, they would share it with each other. It became second nature - even getting to the point when their friends would make fun of them for it. Occasionally, they would check in with the other about whether what they were about to order would even appeal to each other - just to make sure that when they shared their food, it wasn’t something that grossed the other out. But more times than not, they were so in sync with each other that they could just order and know the other wanted to try it. Nick had always loved sharing his food like this with Jess - it felt intimate and deeply personal.

And to him, having her it right now was even better than hearing…

“You do, Nick. You make me smile - seeing you, talking to you…it made me remember what I used to feel like. Happy and loved and cherished. Even Sunday night…after everything…I think I went to bed smiling - not a lot, but a little.”

He stares at her - the piece of her chicken paused halfway to his mouth - and he processes what she’s saying. He has no real way to respond to that, so instead he just says, “Thank you, Jess. Really…I…that means a lot.”

“You’re welcome…uh…do you want to finish telling me what you wanted to tell me?”

Nodding, he puts down his fork and knife again. “Yeah, I do. But, look, Jess…uh, can you just listen and not interrupt?”

“Yes. I can. Although, last time you asked that, I slapped you.” She gives him a huge smile.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten that…”

She just shrugs in response.

He sucks in a breath. Ok…here we go. You can do this, Miller. You know you can. Just say what you’ve already admitted to once today…just jump off the bridge - what’s the worst that can happen.

He takes a sip of his drink and steadies himself. “I love you, Jess.”

“Oh…Nick…” She drops her fork and her hand shoots up to cover her mouth - either because she realizes she interrupted him or because she’s surprised at what he’s just said. Most likely, the latter.

“You’re interrupting.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. But…please…let me. Or I’m going to lose my nerve.”

“I’m shutting up. See…zipping the lips.” She swiped two fingers across her lips and mimed throwing away a key.

He smiles and starts to reach out to her, then falters and pulls his hand back. He’s surprised a second later when her hand gently reaches over, taking one of his, holding it lightly, resting their entwined hands in the middle of the table. He gently runs his thumb across the back of her hand. He liked the slight shiver he detects.

“When you left…when I lost Schmidt and Winston…I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea - I was scared and lonely and sad, not to mention freaked out about the whole health thing…I didn’t know how to get anyone back. But, I wanted to…oh fuck, Jess, I wanted to. I wanted to come to Portland and beg you to give me one more chance. I wanted to tear LA apart until I found Schmidt and beg him to understand why I did what I did. I wanted to find Winston and try to make him remember that we’d been friends since we were five years old…I wanted you back - all of you - I wanted…I wanted my family back.” He watches her carefully use her napkin to dab her eyes…fuck, he hates making her cry. He can feel his own tears starting to burn his eyes again, he hides them by taking another drink and picking up his fork to poke at his food.

He starts again, slowly - gaining momentum as he goes. “But I was too scared…I felt abandoned. Like everything and everyone in the world just didn’t want me. I was dealing with so much - the panic attacks were the worst of it. I kept having them after I got home from the hospital, but they were getting less and less, or at least not as intense…the doctor had given me some pills. But, I had to totally change how I ate and lived…it was so hard. All I wanted was to pick up the phone and talk to you about it. I was scared and I didn’t have the one person I wanted to be there. Plus, I suddenly I had to deal with this new group of roommates, but rather than actually getting to know them, I just kept to myself. It was nothing like living with you guys - it wasn’t fun. But then again, I wasn’t really interested in fun anymore. I was interested in the plan. My dream of opening my own bar. And that became my sole focus - it became everything that was or ever would be important. Nothing else mattered…and the more I let myself sink into that, the less everything else mattered. I didn’t care about other people - I didn’t make or really want to make new friends. You know how bad I can be at making friends - I’m awkward…and when you’re suddenly lacking you number one wing-woman to help you make friends, you lose your advantage.

“So, I stuck to myself. I got my small business degree. I got my mixology certification. I got approved for my loan and all the pieces started coming together. And I just kind of forgot to make a life for myself outside of work.

“But worst of all…I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wishing you were there. I’ve spent three years wanting closure - but in many ways, I think I just wanted you. Jess…I fucking hurt when you left. I hurt so fucking much…but even so, I still loved you so much. So, in the end as much as I wanted to hate or forget you or whatever for leaving me, I couldn’t. Instead, every time I look at what I’ve achieved…what I made…I think of you. Your leaving was what made me go out and do it.

(She’s shaking her head at him…But this is all stuff he needs to tell her. This is all the stuff he’s been living with for three years. She needs to know it.)

“So…in the end, as much as I hated you for leaving me…me loving you…won out. I loved you more. That’s why I’m so pathetic…”

“You’re not!” Her voice is sharp, but sad.

“You’re interrupting!”

“I don’t care. You are not pathetic.”

“Okay, Jess. But, that’s why I am the way that I am…Jess. because I still love you. And I had no way to express it besides my bar, my work…”

He sighs and stares down at his plate. It takes him a second to realize that she’s still holding his hand, in fact she’s nearly clutching it. He feels slightly dizzy - her hand holding his, her not walking out when she saw him tonight, his speech. Oh, fuck - his speech! There’s no taking any of it back now…

Hesitatingly, he takes a risk by looking up at her. As he does, he momentarily flashes back to that morning five years ago when he’d told her he loved her over a cup of coffee and a bowl of fruit loops - its strange how similar this moment feels, like a fucked up version of deja vu. And just like that day five years ago, she’s smiling at him.

“Can I talk?”

“Yeah…I’m done. Unzip those lips!”

She laughed and mimes an unzipping motion. He expects a long emotional reaction or maybe her telling him that she appreciates his feelings…or who knows what. He waits while she seems to gather herself.

“Are you still hungry?”

Huh? What? What did that have to do with anything? “Uh…what?” He frowns at her.

“Look, no offence to this place or anything, but suddenly I don’t feel like sitting in a fancy restaurant - do you want to get out here?”

Oh. Oh! He nods, already raising his hand to get their idiot of a waiter to come over. The guy nearly runs over, a fake smile plastered on his face. Nick starts to explain that they need to leave when Jess interrupts.

“I’m afraid I’m not feeling well - you know how it is…” She shrugs and waves her hand around her midsection. “Can we please get these packed up…sorry for the trouble.”

The waiter looks flummoxed for a moment, as though he’s not really clear on what they’re asking. Jess clearly sees the guy’s confusion and suddenly winches. “Oh! Cramps!”

Nick looks at the waiter, cocking his head towards Jess, “You heard the lady - we need to go. Can pack the food up, please. And here’s my card - just charge it and add twenty percent for yourself, okay?” Nick pulls out his wallet and holds out his credit card.

The waiter looks at the credit card for a moment. Then nods, takes the card, which he tucks in his apron pocket. He grabs their plates and practically sprints.

“Jess…did you just fake having cramps to get us out of here?”

“How else were we going to do it?!”

“Just say we have to leave?”

“But that would be rude!”

“Uh…Jess…they don’t…” He’s again interrupted by the waiter arriving with his credit card, and their boxed up food. Fuck, that was fast… He smiles at the waiter, who had already moved around to help Jess out of her chair. As Nick stands, he reaches out to takes Jess’ hand - which she happily accepts. “Let’s go.”

Five minutes later, they’re standing in the restaurant’s parking lot, quite at a loss as to what happens now.

Jess is the one that voices their shared uncertainty. “Where are we going?”

“Well, we’re like five minutes from your apartment…or if you want to go someplace more public.”

“How about your place?” She says as though she’d been thinking it all along. “I have no food or anything, except Mary-Belle’s cat food, in the fridge.”

“Sure. I drove - my car’s right over there, if you don’t mind dealing with my driving.” He pointed towards his midnight blue Lexus.

“I never had a complaint about how you drove…it was your crappy car. Wait, that’s your car?!”

“I traded up.”

“Yeah, we’re going to talk about the fact that Nick Miller owns a Lexus. I mean, you are the same person who refused to buy new clothes even when your old ones looked like you’d actually found them in a garbage can.”

“I've never had money before, Jess. Now I do…and I guess I sort of like showing it off.”

“I can see that, but still, so surprising. But it all looks good on you…”

“Thank you…ask nicely, and I’ll open the moonroof.” He starts walking towards his car, she quickly falls into step beside him. As they move across the small parking lot, he again feels her hand slip into his. Jesus…all of these signals…he sure as fuck was getting an answer to his unspoken question about how she felt about him. He grips her hand, not wanting to let go even when they get to the car. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his key - pressing the unlock button.

“Door’s unlocked.” His voice feels raspy, although he has no idea why. “Look, Jess…I just wanted to say thank you for listening to me. For giving me this chance to explain and make all this up to you. Th-thank you for…uh…I know I fucked up - even though I didn’t…I don’t…”

“Shut up, Nick.” She’s facing him now. He hears the distinct sound of the bag with their food hitting the pavement as she lets go of it. Her hand - the one that wasn't holding his - slowly moves to cup his cheek. Surprising himself, he moans at the touch. She leans in slightly - it takes him all of one second to realize what she was about to do. She’s about to kiss him. Even in the dark, he recognizes the blush that she always got when she was about to kiss him - the way her lips almost seemed to become wet all on their own. The way her eyelids dropped slightly. And he can feel his whole body responding to her - he wants to lean right back and let her kiss him. He’s desperate to feel that connection with her again. To feel her touch. But if he let her kiss him now, it would be wrong. It could end up hurting them even more than they already hurt.

So, he put his hand up and presses it against her shoulder. “Stop.”

She pulls back slightly, a look of surprise on her face. “Nick?”

““Sorry…I’m sorry…Don’t get me wrong, please…I want to. God, I want to kiss you, Jess…but if we do right now, I don’t want to do more harm to us. Because we’re not done talking yet - are we? I haven’t even asked you how you feel about me - you know how I feel Jess - so please. God…I can’t believe I’m even saying this…but not yet, Jess.”

She steps back slightly, her eyes moving across his face. He suddenly expects her to slap him again or something. But she nods. “You’re right - I don’t want to rush things. It just…it just felt right.”

“I know…it did. But…I just don’t want to ruin anything. So, can we go back to my place. Talk some more and…and, if after everything, you still want to get up on all of this…” He moves his hand across his body. “…I promise to kiss your brains out.”

She laughs. The sound of it is almost magical in the darkness of the parking lot and he finds himself smiling and laughing with her. Suddenly, without realizing what he was doing, Nick put his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. He feels her breath catch in her chest. She stands there in his embrace for a moment, ramrod straight - not moving, almost not breathing - then, slowly her arms encircle him. He squishes his face into her hair, breathing her in for a long moment - she smells amazing, so much like what he remembered, all citrus and flowers - but underneath there is a new smell too. A new body wash or perfume or something. And he never wants to let go. Her face is pressed against his chest and he can feel her soft breaths ghosting through the thin material of his dress shirt.

But most of all, she feels solid and real in his arms. He shudders. He’d lived for three years in a void of the sensations he was feeling right now. The feeling of her in his arms. He’s certain that his heart is beating so hard that she could actually feel it…

Slowly, she pulls back, a smile on her lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m not sure why I did that…I should have asked…I’m sorry.”

“Nick, its okay. You can hug me…it was nice. And you are a lot more…solid…then I remember.”

He shrugged, suddenly bashful. “Okay, should we go?”

“Sure…” She moves around to the side of the car, whistling appreciatively. “A fancy car for a fancy man, huh?”

He found himself laughing. He’s surprised at how distant his nervousness and worry now feels. “I like that - Nick, the fancy man.”

“Get in, Fancy Man.”

He got in and pressed the starter button, putting the car in reverse. To his surprise, she put her hand on his thigh. He glanced over at her, she was looking out the window. Wow…this was happening. This was real. Somehow, Dave’s plan was actually working. He turned onto Ventura, heading back towards West Hollywood - back towards the condo.

He wasn't entirely sure what they should talk about - would she want to continue their super serious talk in the car? Or would she feel more comfortable talking about something else? Maybe he should talk about her dance classes or he could ask her about what she was doing for work or maybe…

“Nick…”

He glanced over at her - she was looking out the window, but he could see a small smile on her face.

“Yeah?”

“Stop worrying about what to say to me, okay? I promise I’m not going to slap you or anything.”

“Oh…uh…yeah, okay. Sorry. So, uh…” Nick needed some kind of neutral topic…he considered just idle small talk, but they’d never been very good at that, so he settled on the one thing that Jess might want to talk about. “Do you have any idea why Dave’s in LA?”

“I figured it was to get away from Portland and see me.”

“Yeah…but I got the feeling that there’s more going on.”

“Why?”

“When I asked him he said it was personal and then said something really weird about needing you in his corner or something like that.”

Jess turned away from the window, even in the dark he could see the a look of concern on her face. She made a small noise in the back of her throat. She pulled her hand back from his thigh - he instantly missed the weight and warmth of it - and dug around in her bag for her cell. He could hear her typing, then the little sending noise as she tucked it back into her bag.

“There,” she nodded. “I’ll have lunch with him tomorrow and he can tell me what’s going on.”

“Think he’ll tell you?”

“If he knows what’s good for him…he’s been acting weird ever since I told him that I was coming back to LA.”

“Uh…Jess…”

“Yeah?”

“Is your move permanent?”

“I want it to be, Nick. Right now…it feels like it could be.”

Nick reached over and took her hand. He had no idea what they were doing - he certainly had no real idea what was happening between them, but he was trying really really hard not to let his expectations and hopes get too high. Although, he was fucking joking if he didn’t admit to the fact that his hopes were way fucking high right now - they’d almost kissed. Holy fuck, how could his hopes not be high…they’d almost kissed. But he still had no idea where they were going to end up…where they were going to end up. Or what they were going to end up as…

“Tell me about…Mary-Belle…” He asked quietly, hoping that she’d be okay filling the silence between then, because he didn’t think he could handle it right now. His brain seemed permanently stuck on the almost kiss that had almost happened back outside the restaurant.

He squeezed her hand, enjoying the reassurance its weight afforded him.

Turning onto Laurel Canyon Road, he found himself listening as Jess described her cat’s weird obsession with mushrooms…

—/—

The building lobby was completely empty - even the usual evening concierge wasn’t at the desk - and the emptiness of the space made their shoes echo loudly as they hurried towards the elevators. Nick hated that there was only one elevator that served both the building and the parking garage - and it was currently out of service - which meant, walking up three flights of stairs to the lobby and then getting on the actual elevators. For a relatively brand new building - equipped with every bell and whistle - this was the worst design flaw! As he pressed the elevator call button, he once again found himself nervous about what was happening with Jess.

He had no idea what the fuck was wrong with him, but ever since Jess had walked back into his life, he was constantly second guessing himself. Or he just seemed to be unable to stop acting like an idiot around her…although, that wasn’t entirely unusual. Even so, he really wished he could just find the confidence and self assurance that he usually felt about every other aspect of his life. He sighed softly as he pressed the button for the twentieth floor - noticing, not for the first time, that his hand was shaking.

Her hand settled over his, wrapping itself gently around his trembling fingers. He looked down at her - she was gazing back at him, her face was completely serious and, for a moment, he thought he was about to get yelled at. But then, she pulled his hand off the elevator button and brought it up to her mouth - kissing it gently. “Calm down, Nick. Please?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’ll try.”

“I don’t want you having another panic attack, okay…I’d rather not end our evening in the emergency room.”

“Yeah. Me neither. Believe me.” He gave her a shaky smile.

The elevator doors dinged open, she pulled him out into the hallway. “Come on then.”

Nick sighed as he slipped his key into the door to his condo, stepping aside so she could go in first. The condo was dark and cool - except for the way the wall of windows were illuminating the living room - they had bathed the room in a dim muted orange kind of light.

“Stay here - let me get a couple lights on.”

“No…not yet.” She stepped away from him and walked into the living room, carefully navigating the furniture until she was standing by the windows. “This is…beautiful. I don’t think I really paid attention to it when I was here before - being so nervous and all.”

He watched her from the dark hallway - she was framed so perfectly by the evening light. He watched her shadow as she brought her hand up to smooth down her hair slightly. Pulling his boots off and dropping them on the shoe mat by the front door, he moved soundlessly across the room to stand next to her. He stepped next to her, letting his eyes take in the glowing city below - trying to see it through her eyes…trying to think what all this must be like for her. To be standing in a condo - that she knows has to cost a fortune - trying to deal with the fact that Nick Miller lives here. A man, she remembers as barely being able to stay afloat most of the time. This must be so weirdly surreal for her.

He’s lost in thought when he feels her fingers brushing against his palm - without thinking or hesitating, he lets their fingers become entwined. She steps a little closer to him. His stomach explodes with butterflies again - he’s barely begun processing the surprise of what’s happened tonight…and he dearly wants to just skip all of the mess that’s still to come…he just wants to turn to her, pull her into his arms and kiss her like his life depends on it.

But he can’t…

They stand there - silently - watching Los Angeles beneath them. The city seems almost alive - moving and breathing with traffic, lights, people - while they’re safely tucked away twenty floors above, behind a solid pane of glass.

It’s clear that neither of wants to break the comfortable silence that’s settled between them - it’s a reassuring silence. One that Nick feels speaks volumes without a single word being spoken. He lets his eyes close and breathes in the silence…breathes in her presence. But underneath that silence, there’s something else…things still unsaid. Nick knows they aren’t done talking yet. Not everything is out in the open. Their feelings - the deep raging stormy waters of their feelings for each other - haven’t quite completely broken to the surface.

He’s so entranced by the silence and the view below him that when her voice sounds in the darkness, it completely startles him. But its what she says…the way she says it…that makes him feel like he needs to sit down. “I never stopped loving you either, Nick.”

Still gripping her hand, he turns to her. There is just enough light coming in through the windows for him to see her face - its bathed in this gentle wash of light, highlighting her cheekbones and making her eyes shine even more than they normally do. He smiles at her.

His heart feel like its beating at a million beats per minute.

“Jess…”

“Yeah, Nick?”

“It feels even more like we’re supposed to kiss now, huh?”

“It does…yeah…” Her voice is breathy - tempting and sultry.

But he still can’t let himself do it…

“I…I…I want to. God, I want to kiss you, Jess…but if we do right now, I don’t want to do more harm to us. We might…we might regret it. Because if I start kissing you, I’m not stopping. I’m going to want to pick you up and carry you into my bedroom and spend the rest of the night showing you how much I’ve missed you and how much I still feel for you. But, I don’t want us to wake up in the morning and suddenly regret…everything.”

“Well…for one thing, we’re talking about a kiss, here, Nick. No one said anything about sex. And what makes you think we’ll regret it?”

He knows he shouldn’t…he knows he really really shouldn't say what he’s about to say…but…fuck…

“Because…because I don’t want it to be pity sex. Poor Nick, so lonely…misses me so much…I’ll just throw him a bone and be done with it.”

(Holy crap! He really is an idiot sometimes.)

Her hand moves a lot faster than he might expect it to and the sharp sting of her hand connecting with his cheek is intensely painful…although, considering that this is now the second (no, third) time that he’s been slapped by Jess in the space of four days, he should probably be used to it by now. His head snaps back - hard - and his vision clouds slightly. He can feel the burn of the slap rising on his cheek. And, as his sight slowly clears, he grows quite aware that she’s no longer holding his hand; instead, she’s stepped away from him - her face only registering a look of absolute shock. He reaches up and strokes his cheek, keeping his eyes lowered - unable to look at her.

“So, in the past three years you also became an asshole?” She’s trying to keep her voice even, but the hurt is so obvious.

“And have you become a champion slapper in three years?! That fucking hurt!”

She - wisely - ignores his smart-ass comment. “You actually think that I would treat you like that? You think that I would be that kind of person? After I…Well…fuck you, Miller.” Okay, fine, this wasn’t his finest moment - he really needs to review his thoughts before he says them, but as hurt and angry as she is right now, well he’s just a hurt and angry.

(And just like that, they’re back to arguing…)

What the fuck does she expect. She walked out on him, leaving him. He stops rubbing his face and walks around the couch, switching on one of his small side lamps - he’s had enough with this perfect romantic mood lighting. He slowly turns so they’re facing each other, using the couch as a kind of barrier between them.

“Fuck me? Where the fuck do you get off, Jess?! What do you expect me to say or think - you left me! And I’m not talking about the reasons why left…I’m just talking about the fact that you did it! You walked out on us - we were getting ready to really start our lives together! All I wanted was to make you happy! We were getting our own place…I was thinking about marriage! Me, Jess! Me…marriage…something that scared the crap out of me, but with you it was all I wanted! And then you left me…you broke me! Like I was nothing…do you know what I felt like when you walked out, Jess? Do you have any idea what I felt like?”

“That still doesn’t give you the right to say…”

“I felt like I was a piece of fucking garbage, Jess! Like I wasn’t worth anything - that all I ever was to you was trash. That you could just dispose of me and forget about me and that I didn’t matter. That maybe I never mattered to you!” His voice has that same edge to it that’s been there all night…he’s on the verge of tears again.

“Nick! I…I…oh God.”

“So, you want to know why I would think that? That’s why…Jess…that’s why. I don’t want to believe that you’d think of me like that, but it feels like you already have Jess. I…I still love you, I do. God, Jess…but I just don’t want to get hurt. And…you’ve hurt me so much.” He turned away from her and walked over to the bar cabinet - trying to hide the tears that were definitely burning his eyes.

A long minute of silence stretches between them. He stands, slightly stooped over the bar cabinet - gripping the wood, until he realized that his fingernails were making tiny crescent moon shaped indents in it. But the pressure of the wood against his nails was good - distracting him from the pain gathering in his chest. And he knows she’s still standing by the couch, silently watching him. Then, her voice - quiet and tearful - broke the silence. “I wish there was some way to make you believe that I never thought that way - that I hate myself for making you feel like that. But, I don’t know how to make up for it, Nick. Except…except by promising you that I won’t hurt you again.”

He slowly turns back to face her, wiping his face. “And I want to believe that - God, Jess…and there’s a huge part of me that does, but…you don’t know how badly I hurt. And now, you’re here - saying all the things I’ve wanted to hear for so long. Fuck, this is like some kind of dream.”

“I know. I wish I could go back and take that hurt away…you can never know how much I’ve hated myself…”

“Stop…don’t…you went through so much…fuck…I should be the one apologizing for being a self centred fuck. Here I am, moaning and complaining after everything you went through…:

“Nick…for fuck’s sake…stop making out your pain as being less than mine. You were hurting the same as I was…its not a competition.”

“Not the same…not the same…”

“Yes…Nick…the same. You were grieving too.”

“I’m sorry…I hate this.”

“I swear Nick, I don’t pity you or see you as anything other than…just Nick. The kind, sweet loveable man I wanted to spend my life with.”

“Jess…I’m…fuck…this is so hard. Why is this so hard?!”

“Because we’re both a complete mess and we keep saying the wrong thing.”

“Me…I keep saying the wrong thing.”

“I doing my fair share…”

“Jess…I’m going to be totally honest here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna do the wrong thing again…but I need to ask this.”

“Okay.” She nods.

"Why are you back?”

Jess sighed softly - but its a not an angry sigh or a upset sigh…it sounds more like the sigh of someone who’s been waiting for this question. She looks away for a moment, then quietly asks, “Can I have something to drink?”

He likes that question - its something tactile, something he’s good at providing. “Sure! What can I get you?”

“Something strong.”

Nick smiles and turns back to his bar cabinet - pulling it open. He reached out and picked up a bottle of bourbon - his bottle of Pappy Van Winkle's Family Reserve 20-Year-Old. “Bourbon okay?”

“Sure. Why not.”

“It’s really good bourbon.”

She laughs and smiles at him. “Then, hit me up, Miller.”

The argument - the anger - although still there, simmering, seems to have shifted again. They’re back to talking - civilly - without the yelling and the slapping. He grabs two glasses and hurries into the kitchen - dropping an ice cube into each glass - then walks back to the bar. He notices that she’s pulled off her shoes and has curled up on the couch. He pours them both a generous amount. He walks over to her, holding her glass out.

“Thanks.” She leans forward, putting the glass on the coffee-table. His eyes narrow as he mutters a soft “Coaster!” She pauses, startled, and stares at him like he’s a crazy person.

“Really? Did you just say coaster…Do you have a hidden jar around here I can make use of?”

“It’s a nice table, okay?”

“Oh my god! Nick…did you morph into a Schmidt?”

“Don’t be mean…fine, ignore the coaster. Forget I said anything.”

“You’re an idiot. I’ll clean it for you later, okay?”

“I said, I take the coaster remark back. Are you hungry?”

“A little - we didn’t eat much at the restaurant.”

“I have snacks…”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“And I’ll be right here, wantonly damaging your furniture with water rings.”

“Smart ass.” He calls over his shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen. He grabs a bag of pistachios, dumping them into a bowl. He didn’t really entertain much - and he certainly didn’t know how how to entertain in a situation like this. He decided to grab a bag of chips - which got dumped into their own bowl. He takes a moment - this is so strange, they keep going back and forth between angry yelling and almost flirting - or full on flirting. There’s a tension in the room - there has been since he sat down at the restaurant - that just won’t go away. But it keeps changing and morphing - from hurt and tears to near kisses to violent attacks against his cheeks to teasing. But it’s there…waiting to explode.

They need to work this out before it explodes and ruins things completely.

He picks up the bowls and walks back into the living room, smiling when he sees that she’s put a coaster under her drink. She gives him a look that tells him not to mention it, he just nods and puts down the bowls. “Hope these are okay.”

“Thanks.”

“So…” He rubbed his hands on his pants, making his thighs with streaks of sweat. “

She nods slowly and takes a sip of her drink - wincing at the harshness of the alcohol.

“I missed you.”

Huh? That was a pretty good answer. “Simple as that?”

She shook her head. “No - and yes - but I was scared, Nick. I convinced myself that you would want nothing to do with me and I had no idea how to just show up here and try to get you back or even to just explain myself. It was the scariest thing I could ever think of facing. When I was in Portland…at first, it was hard to focus on you. I…I felt so empty and sad…but after a while, I realized that the way I’d left had been just…so awful. And that made me even sadder, so at first I tried ignoring how I felt. And then after a while it got easier and easier to just not…so I didn’t.”

“So, what happened? An epiphany? Or something?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what? Jess…please, help me understand. You know how I felt three years ago…and now, all of a sudden you decide that you do want to be with me, so you reappear in my life. And you’re telling me that I might be able to have the one thing I’ve dreamt about… That you still want me. You still want us. I just need to understand what’s going on!”

Jess bites her lip and stands up…she turns away, one hand cupping the back of her neck, while the other is rubbing her nose slightly. He’s not entirely familiar with this pose - he can’t really remember if she did this before. She starts to tangle her hands into her hair - which he does recognize as a sign of frustration. He can tell that she is on the verge of tears - and all he wants is to comfort her. He shifts forward on the couch slightly - reaching out to gently put his hand on her waist. She turns to face him, surprised. He holds his arms out. “Please sit down, just talk. I’m sorry I pushed. I really am. Please…”

Slowly, she moves back to sit next to him. It takes all his will power not to wrap his arms around her and hold her, but he knows they’re not there yet. He does take one of her hands, holding it in both of his. “Tell me Jess…no more yelling. No more anger. Just tell me…tell me about what happened to you.”

“I never wanted to hurt you…I’m sorry I did.”

“It’s okay, Jess. Really…we’re working it out, right?”

She sniffles and takes a sip of her drink. “At first…well, you know some of this already, but at first it was all I could do not to just cease existing. Everything hurt…or if it didn’t hurt, it just felt numb. And I felt stuck…I was like that for so long. Everyone tried to get me to ‘get over it’, like it was a cold or a muscle sprain or something. My mom threatened on a daily basis to call you…figuring that you would help me snap out of it. But I think even you wouldn’t have been able to help. It was only when Dave started coming around - with his ridiculous daily coffees - that I started to let myself feel like I could make it out. And slowly…I did. It was about a year and a half after I’d left that I actually started to think about you again - really think about you. And I…I missed you. Oh god. I missed you.

“And then…it was weird, but suddenly over night, it felt like something just got switched on. And everything I did was evaluated based on what you might say. Every dinner I cooked, I wondered if you would like it. Every movie I watched, I had a Nick Miller commentary going in my head. Every book. Every conversation. Every time I bought groceries or bought a new shirt…everything was tinted by you…it was like I was still in a relationship with you.

“And then I got asked out. By this guy at work - Alan. And my first response was to say that I already have a boyfriend. As soon as I thought that, I knew I needed to see you. I needed to figure myself out and I couldn’t do that unless we talked. I don’t know what I wanted - closure or for us to reconnect or what. I just knew I needed to figure things out. So, I asked Dave what he thought I should do.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to reach out by calling you.”

“Well, I know that you you never did that.”

“No…because I wanted to see you. I wanted…to come home. And you know me, once I get an idea in my head, its hard for me to let it go.”

“So, you decided to move back to LA?”

“Yeah. I was sure that just calling you wouldn’t be enough for me. I wanted to see you - I wanted to talk in person.”

“I kinda get the feeling that Dave wasn’t totally on board with that, huh?”

“He said that seeing you in person might be dangerous for me - that my feelings might not be returned and I could end up really hurt. But I didn’t care…I wanted to come back to LA, I wasn’t happy in Portland.”

“Okay - but why wait so long?”

“I don’t know…Nick…I think that after everything…there was this part of me that was also pretty sure that I should’ve just left leave you behind. I thought that maybe if we never spoke or saw each other again, then we could just live our separate lives and forget each other…or something.”

“You seriously didn't believe that?”

“I wanted to. I needed to.”

“I would have been so happy if you’d called me!”

“I never thought you would actually want to talk to me…I wish I had known…this would have been all so much simpler.”

“Yeah. And getting asked out changed your mind?”

“Yeah…I just realized that I needed to talk to you.”

Jess fell silent again, her eyes locked on their entwined hands. She slowly moved her thumb against his - running the the pad of her thumb against the soft hairs covering his knuckle. Nick leaned in a little, creating a new sense of intimacy between them. “Jess…can I tell you something?”

“Of course!”

“I don’t think I ever gave up our relationship either - I’ve lived with it in some way for the past three years. Sometimes I felt like you and I were still together. If I got asked out, it felt like I would be cheating on you if I went. Or…well, there were a million reasons why I just didn’t want to go out. But I sequestered myself away. I pretended like my life was only about…work and the bar and making money. Because it helped me forget how much I missed you.”

“I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

Nick stared at her for a while. Soaking her in - her face was perfect - beautiful with her wide innocent eyes, that incredibly expressive mouth that always in motion. She still had those beautiful bangs that hung over her forehead - which she often forgot to get trimmed and would then start falling into her eyes, annoying her. Nick reached out and brushed her cheek, letting his thumb linger for a long time on the skin just below her eye.

“What are we doing, Jess?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve wanted to be here for so long now.”

“Me too. I just never thought I would be allowed to.”

“I don’t know what to do next…”

“Would you mind if I hugged you?” His voice had become shy, almost timid.

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all. You don’t have to ask…you didn’t back at Firefly.” Her voice echoed his tone.

He lets go of her hand and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her and pressing their bodies together as best they could on the couch. As his arms tightened around her, he felt her arms tentatively wrap themselves around his neck - it was a gesture he had memorized from their years together - and he let his face fall against her neck. He could feel her warmth against his chest and the soft but surprisingly strong muscles of her back as his hands rubbed soothing circles into her skin. He breathed her scent in. He felt her release a massive sigh as she relaxed into his embrace.

Then, slowly and quietly, he felt her body start to shake. For a moment he worried that he had done something wrong, until he heard her quiet sobs. She was crying. He tightened his arms around her. As her sobs intensified, she buried her face against his neck. He could feel the hot tears soaking his skin and the collar of his shirt. He started to rock her slightly - whispering reassurances quietly into her skin. It wasn’t until he heard his own strangled voice that he realized he was also crying.

He could feel and hear her whispering against his neck, “I’m so sorry, Nick. I’m so sorry.” It just made him hold her even tighter. He hated what they had done to each other - hated that she felt she couldn’t come talk to him three years ago when she was scared and alone and sad in Portland. Hated that rather than fight for her, he’d taken the coward’s way out and decided to act out rather than try to fix whatever was wrong. Hated that they had spent three years in some kind of emotional vacuum where their feelings for each other still raged. Hated that neither of them had had the backbone to just try reaching out to the other.

They sat there holding one another for a long time - neither of them saying a word, except for the occasional whispered reassurance or quiet sob. Nick prayed that this was it - this was enough - that they could actually move on. He didn’t want to keep finding himself angry at her and he prayed that she felt the same.

Tonight had felt like some kind of awful out of control roller coaster. And it was a ride that Nick just wanted to be over.

He - they - needed it to be.

But right now, all he wanted to do was just press his face into her neck and hold her for as long as she needed him to. She had slipped down slightly, so her face was pressed against his chest - which she nuzzled slightly. Her sobs had tapered off, but he could still feel that her breathing was ragged and heavy. He squeezed her gently.

“I’m so sorry, Jess.” He whispers, his voice still cracking.

“Thank you. God…this feels…” Her voice, heavy with tears, was muffled by his chest. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Awesome?” He finished for her.

“Took the word right out of my mouth, Miller. I don’t want to stop…”

“We don’t have to.”

She shifted upwards slightly, so that her head managed to rest on his shoulder, letting her press her face into his neck again. “You got really…big.”

“I told you…I work out.”

“I’m still shocked by that.”

“As shocked as by my healthy eating habits?”

“More…you hated exercise. Like really really hated it.”

“Think of me as Nick 2.0.”

“I like both versions.”

“You feel so good, Jess.”

“Mhmmm…Nick…?”

“Yeah?”

“Would it be ok if I kissed you now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prelude to a Kiss - this recipe isn't available online, but it can be found in print. Here's the recipe: 2 parts ginger ale; 1 part gin; 1 part peach schnapps; splash of grenadine; Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Recipe found in: Big Bad-Ass Book of Cocktails: 1,500 Recipes to Mix It Up!, 2010, pg. 380.


	14. Chapter 13 - The Long Kiss Goodnight

***9 am - The Following Morning***

_“Would it be ok if I kissed you now?”_

Nine simple words. Words that, when you first think about it, really are quite simple, but then, when it gets right down to it - when you have to give them a second through - you realize they’re not very simple at all. No, not at all simple - really very complicated, in fact. And Nick should have known - he really should have fucking known - that those nine little words would lead to exactly where he now was. Nine little words that changed - yet again - the dynamic of his  relationship with Jess. 

Fuck - those nine little words, and all the shit they managed to cause, well it was almost enough to make a man scream. If that man wasn’t so fucking comfortable and happy right now. 

Nick stared into the dim light of the bedroom, a lazy smile on his face. The bedroom was almost completely pitch black, except for the soft glow of his bedside alarm clock, which cast a ghostly shade of blue onto the right side of the room. Normally, at this time of the day, the room would be filled with the blinding morning sun; however, Nick had turned the windows to blackout - effectively ruining any chances of the sun disturbing him. 

(Them…they…they were in bed…together.) 

He could feel a cool and crushing exhaustion lingering in his bones, one that felt so thorough and deep that he almost envisioned himself being anchored to the bed by its weight. The exhaustion felt so deep that should he even try getting up, he would probably just collapse into a puddle of bones, flesh and muscles at the side of the bed. He might be used to surviving on very little sleep, but he’d always managed to get in at least a few hours - more power naps than anything - every night. But after last night, well fuck, he’d been completely unable to fall asleep. The emotional high he was riding, in combination with the amount of sex they’d had, plus his overwrought brain constantly replaying the past twelve…it kind of made for rather poor sleeping conditions.

And, for some crazy reason, he kept worrying about Jess’ cat and whether she would have enough food this morning. 

Nick sighed and shifted slightly, relishing the feel of his expensive sheets sliding across his naked skin. But even more so, he relished the weight of Jess’ sleeping body cuddled up against his side - one long smooth leg thrown over his thigh, tucking herself as close to him as possible. She had one arm draped lightly across his stomach and her head was resting in the crook of his arm, with her face nearly pressed up against his neck. He had carefully wrapped his arm around her and was holding her tightly against him. (His shoulder had grown numb hours ago…)

He had forgotten how amazing it felt to hold her naked body in his arms - something he managed to rediscover a number of times over the course of the night - both awake and asleep. 

He felt Jess shift slightly, almost tugging herself closer to him - if that was possible - and mumble something in her sleep. He glanced down at her sleeping form - fuck, she looked beautiful. His slate grey sheets were barely covering her. Somehow, she’d managed to kick most of them off, except for a long strip of fabric that was draped over her side, covering one long leg, her hips and some of her side - he could see the brilliant white of her side and curve of her breast standing out strikingly in the dark room. Her hair was spilled out dramatically on the pillow beneath her head. And her face, which was shiny with dried perspiration, looked so incredibly content.  He simply could not believe that this was happening…he could not believe that he was lying in bed with Jess in his arms again. 

It was…

It was…

Well, fuck…adjectives were failing him. 

He was pretty sure that his ability to properly form words had long ago abandoned him - probably around the time they were lying on the couch, making out. He’d been fine during the whole kissing thing, but the more intense they got - and certainly around the time that he carried her into his bedroom - he’d just lost the ability to describe what was happening. 

Hours ago, they had nearly been at each other’s throats - supercharged emotions nearly boiling over and threatening to rip them apart. Only to have those emotions cool down again, letting them talk things out rationally - or as rationally as they could. But wasn't that exactly like them - so many times in their past, their emotions would run so hot and angry, only to cool down until they surged up again, exploding in frenzied and intense sex? And just like all those times before, they had raged at each other…only to find that as hot as that rage burned, their desire, attraction and need for one another burned that much hotter and brighter. 

And certainly, after three years, that desire and need burned hotter than they’d expected. So, when they’d tumbled back into each other’s arms, with a million emotions, desires, things unsaid or already said too many times lingering between them, the resulting explosion of physical intensity had rocked them to their core.

But somehow, over the course of the night they’d worked it out - many times over. Many many times over… 

For Nick, it had all felt like some kind of unreal dream that he never wanted to wake up from - a dream clothed in this warm, rose coloured fog that made him feel more human than he had in years. God…The sensation of her skin underneath his hands, his lips, his skin…it was exhilarating. The way her breath - hot against his sweaty skin - had caused an explosion of goose flesh had been the most sensual thing he’d ever experienced.

Every single second of it had felt like coming home. 

The moment his hands started touching her - caressing her skin - his body started to wake up. Making love to Jessica Day wasn’t so much an act, but a kind of muscle memory. His body seemed to just remember how easy it was to be with her. How perfectly their bodies fit together - and even though his had changed so dramatically, it still moulded almost seamlessly with hers. The way her skin responded to his touch, to his tongue, was exactly as he’d remembered it. The way her hair fell exactly right over his skin was just as he’d remembered it. Everything about being with her was exciting and familiar, yet at the same time it was tinged with all these new tastes and sensations that made the whole experience even more exhilarating. 

Nick let his eyes fall shut - only this time he wasn’t going to bother trying to fall asleep, he wanted to fall back into the memories and sensation that had been scored into his skin. 

****The Night Before****

“Would it be ok if I kissed you now?”

All the starts and stops tonight - the almost kisses and the nearly perfect moments - they all had been leading right to this moment. Because even if he wracked his brain, Nick knew that he didn’t have a reason to say no this time. Because he wanted it…oh god, he really wanted it.

Mutely, he shifts his head and nods in response to her question. She senses his consent and tilts her head lightly, the movement bringing their lips within inches of each other. He can feel her breath on his lips - she’s breathing rapidly and her breath is hot. He realizes that all he has to do is close the distance and he’d be kissing her. A matter of millimetres and he would be doing the one thing he’d dreamt about for three years. 

Just as he’s about to push his head forward, she moves first and captures his lips with her own. The sensation of her lips against his instinctively makes him tighten his arms around her, pulling her even closer. His eyes fall shut as he allows himself to become enveloped by the sensation of the gentle and persistent pressure of the kiss. It takes him all of one second to fully comprehend what’s happening… 

She’s kissing him. 

Oh.

Oh shit!

She’s kissing him. 

His body starts responding to the kiss…like a dying man, who’s been struggling to breathe, finally getting oxygen into his lungs. He eagerly moves his lips against her’s - kissing her back with an intensity that’s been building for the past three years. It is as though he’s trying to communicate so much through this kiss - his longing for her, how much he’s missed her, his desire to never stop kissing her…to never stop loving her. He tugs her closer to him, nearly pulling her onto his lap, and deepens the kiss.   

The kiss is unlike any other they’ve ever shared. It’s filled with an intensity that neither has ever felt before. Something akin to a surge of electricity passes between them - Nick can almost feel the hairs on the back of his arms and neck stand up. His heartbeat speeds up and his thoughts start to get all fuzzy - his world narrows so that all he’s aware of is the kiss. He feels her shift, moving to straddle him, cupping his face gently to draw him even deeper into the kiss. He’s overcome with what’s happening…the feeling of having her in his arms, her legs straddling his thighs, and the weight of her body on his. Her lips are cool and soft and, as slides his tongue across her lips, he can taste a mixture of her lip gloss and the lingering taste of bourbon. He feels her part her lips, allowing his tongue to slide into her mouth.

The moment their tongues meet is also the moment that she shifts one of her hands to tangle her fingers into the short hair at the back of his neck, giving them a firm tug, which causes him to whimper and shudder all at once. He tugs her even closer as he starts to pivot himself to lie down on the couch - pulling her with him. He gets half way down, when suddenly, she pulls back slightly. Her face is ablaze with a grin as big and bright at the sun. And she’s staring at him with such happiness and desire that he’s practically knocked senseless. 

“Nick…” She sounds breathless and in awe of what’s happening. 

He slowly opens his mouth - unsure of exactly whether he even has the ability to speak. Quietly, he croaks out, “Yeah?” 

Oh…okay…so he can form words.

“I don’t regret kissing you. I don’t regret this. And everything that happens from this moment onwards…I’ll never regret it.” 

And then, she’s kissing him again.

Suddenly, all at once, the magnitude of what’s happening…and what’s about to happen… hits him. 

“Jess…ugh! Jess! Please…wait…just…one…second…please…oh fuck…that feels amazing…but…wait…”

Nick can feel the warm leather of the couch through the back of his shirt - he can feel the softness of the cushions on his head and shoulders and he can feel the way the couch is trying to envelope him into its cushions. But then there’s a whole other set of sensations that’s flooding his senses - the way Jess’ smell is completely surrounding him. The way her hair is slightly tickling his neck and face. The feel of her lips on his and on his neck. And the way her hand is slowly pushing up his undershirt, her palm coming into contact with his overheated skin. 

All of it, nearly makes him moan…oh, no wait…what’s that noise…oh, he is moaning.

His body wants - craves - more. But he needs…fuck…he needs just one second, because these sensations are overwhelming him. He needs to just have one second to let his brain catch up with his body. If he doesn’t…he’s going to yank that dress off her, followed quickly by his own clothes and he wants to make sure…one hundred percent sure…that this is not some horrible mistake. He needs to be sure that she wants this and that she understand that if they go down this rabbit hole, there’s no coming back. Because as much as he wants this - as much as he wants to be with her - he’s not exactly willing to open himself up to the world of hurt that could inevitably ride the coattails of naked, sweaty adventures. 

Because he’s sure as fuck not going to be with her tonight and then suddenly go back to a life where she’s not a featured player. No fucking way. 

“Jess! Stop!” He tries to make his voice sound strong and forceful, but he’s pretty sure that it comes out and feeble and hesitant, which is fitting since he’s felt that way pretty much since this whole night started. 

She draws back, worry written over her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I…fuck…Jess…this is so fast, you need to give me a second to catch up.”

“I’m sorry.” She starts to move to get off him. His hands grab hold of her waist, gripping her tightly and holding her in place. 

“No! I don’t want you to move…I just need a second, okay?” He pushes himself up slightly, bringing their foreheads together. “Please. Don’t. Move.”

He feels her nod slightly. He voice is soft, barely a whisper. “Okay. Talk to me…tell me what’s going on.”

“I…I need to know…”

“Know what, Nick?”

“What happens after?”

“After what?”

“After this…if we do this…have sex…what happens to me - to us - after?”

“Oh…”

“Because…if you’re going to disappear again, if you’re going to leave me and go back to a life that doesn’t include me…Jess, I don’t think I could handle that. Because, right now, you’re giving me what I’ve wanted - even when I didn’t realize it - for the past three years, and if you take it away from me again…I can’t do this. I won’t.”

She lifts her head and gently puts her hands back on his cheeks, lifting his head to face her. He’s certain that he looks awful - exhausted, probably crying - no, defiantly crying - red eyes, swollen lips, his beard is probably all messed up. What’s worse is that she looks perfect - her hair is a bit wild, lips all flushed and swollen, and her eyes are bigger and fuller than he’s ever seen them. But she looks…just perfect. He relishes the slight ticklish sensation of her fingers stroking his cheek - this feels so intimate, so deeply personal. 

“Can I tell you a story?” Her voice is still low and soft. 

He can actually feel his eyebrow arch, questioningly. But he nods, completely unsure of where she’s going with this. And he watches, fascinated, as her tongue slides from between her lips and runs slowly along her bottom lip. God…that’s distracting. 

She runs her fingers through his goatee, smiling at the sensation. Then she starts talking. 

“When I was in Portland, before all the bad stuff - the hospital, the depression, all of that - everywhere I went, you were on my mind almost all day, everyday. I kept finding gifts for you. It became a kind game - how many ridiculous things could I find for you and how outrageous could they get. I found this crazy pop art silk screened throw blanket with images of beer steins on it - it was all neon and pink and purple and looks completely insane. The moment I saw it, I decided that our new apartment couldn’t exist without it. And then, when I was in the hospital, I asked Abby to bring it…it was a security thing, it made me feel better. Mostly, because I associated it with you. Its lived - and still does - on my bed for the last three years. You probably saw it in my apartment.

“But Nick, my decision to…cut you out of my life in the way I did…was because I was buried underneath a ton of sadness. I didn’t want to have you or any one else in my life - because I didn’t know how to keep living. I felt empty and alone - and I thought I needed to actually be alone. I was so sure of my decision, so sure that what I was doing was the right thing that I just blocked out all rational thought. And, yeah, everyone around me told me that I was being silly and stupid…”

“You’re not.” Nick whispered.

“What?” Jess looked started at the interruption.

“Silly or stupid - well, you’re silly, but in different ways. I just don’t want you thinking you’re stupid…you were sad, really fucking sad - that’s not stupid.”

“Thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. 

“Sorry for interrupting…”  He trailed off, letting her continue. 

“Right…so, everyone was telling me to just talk to you…but I couldn’t. It was like there was a mental block that I couldn’t break free from. I think I told you the other day that I felt as though my whole world had become so small…until there was just myself and the sadness left…and nothing I did could get me out from under that. But that never meant I stopped thinking about you. You were always there - somehow - and I wanted to talk to you, I just didn’t know how. I hope you realize that I didn’t even think about how my sadness was affecting you - I never thought that by leaving you in the dark or that by not actually telling you what happened that you’d be hurt so badly. I just knew I couldn’t have you in my life, because I had no room in my life for anything but my depression.”

Nick reached out and started stroking her face. Nodding slowly - wishing so badly he could go back in time and take away the sadness and the hurt she was describing. He wanted to strip her of that pain…because Jessica Day was not someone who deserved to feel those things. Jess deserved love and joy and happiness and laughter - the idea that Jess had faced something as hurtful and foreign as depression…it just didn’t compute…it made him feel ill. 

And, most of all, he hated that he kept forcing her to relive it. He kept asking her question after question after fucking question about it. Making her relive all this…when all she wanted to do was just show him that she still cared for him. Fuck…he was fucking this up.

“Jess…”

“Yes, Nick?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“That I keep making you relive all this shit. I shouldn’t be making you think about this. I shouldn’t be making you talk about this. I hate that I’m making you do this…”

“But you need to know - you need to know about what happened and how I was feeling - how I feel. And if that means having to relive it a little bit…I can do that. ”

“But, I don’t want to make you sad again.”

“You’re not.”

“Are you sure?”

Jess laughed and kissed his forehead again. “Yes, Nick. You’re not making me sad. You’re making me smile…all of this tonight, it’s made me smile and laugh and feel…amazing.”

He smiled. Hearing her laugh like that filled him with a kind of immense joy at the idea that he was actually doing something right…he leaned forward and kissed her again. She moaned as he did - leaning forward slightly and pressing her body against his. He pulled back slightly, making sure to keep his lips within kissing distance. “Do you still have more to tell me?”

“Yes…because I want you to understand that I’m sure about this. That you - us - is the reason I’m back. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, uh, gosh…where was I?”

“You were thinking about me a lot and you wanted to be alone…”

“Right. Nick - I can’t describe it any other way but that my world got really small…and as much as people wanted to be a part of it - I didn’t know how to let someone else in.”

“Until Dave?”

“It was different with him. He just seemed to know what was going on and how I was feeling - and he was never intrusive, unless I wanted him to be. He just let me figure it out until I was ready to talk to him.

“He helped me come back…he started listening when I was ready to talk, then he encouraged me to find an actual therapist, then he got me to talk to my mom and Abby and my dad. And he helped me find a job again…and then my crappy apartment in Portland. And when I was ready to see you - to talk to you - he helped me. I feel like the last three years have been a series of really tiny baby steps that got be back here - back to you.

“That’s why, Nick, I was so ready to just try and move on from what happened between you and Cece - because I’ve worked so hard! So god-damn hard to get back here, back to you, that just turning around and walking away, it would’ve felt like everything I did was just a waste of time. I wanted to feel like me again…and after I did, I realized that I wanted to be with you again…and that’s why I came back. We both did things - out of grief and sadness - that hurt each other, but I don’t want to dwell on that. I just want…I want us to move forward together, build on what we had - what we have - and…”

“Stop talking.” Nick’s voice sounded the most confident it had all night - rough and gravelly. He knows there so much more to say - but he’s decided it can wait until tomorrow…for now, he wants the physical connection again.

“What? I thought you wanted…”

“Jess, please stop talking, so I can start kissing you again.”

“Oh.”

“Every word you just said…it’s everything I want too. I want us again, Jess. There’s nothing I want more. Honestly…and I want to move past everything we’ve done too. I want us. And I think I know you’re not going to just disappear on me - that you’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“As long as you have normal breakfast foods, I will be.”

“I have yogurt…”

“Please tell me that you eat more than yogurt for breakfast…”

“Yes, Jess, I eat more than yogurt…I have eggs and toast and avocados…I promise to make you a real breakfast tomorrow. If you want to stay the night…”

“Would I ask otherwise?”

“You could just be checking up on me and my eating habits…”

“Right…who knows, maybe this whole reformed health nut thing is an act, and I’ll find a secret stash of Fruit Loops and ice cream.”

“Do you have any idea how many empty calories there are in those things…”

“Wow…that was almost jar worthy.”

“Not jar worthy if it’s meant to keep me healthy! And I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here…”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…for me to make you breakfast, we need to go to bed first.”

“Oh, right. That’s a big important step.”

“Very important…the most important, maybe…cause it means I get to take that really really distracting dress off you.”

Jess laughed again, shaking her head. “Okay…then I think we should get back to…”

She never got the words out. Nick swooped in, capturing her mouth with his - pressing a long, hot and hard kiss against her lips. His tongue pushing gently into her mouth, sliding hotly against hers. As he kissed her, he tugged her back onto his lap - she’d slipped off while they’d been talking. She moved easily, once again coming to straddle his thighs, without breaking their kiss. He falls back against the coach, pulling her with him, until he’s lying down and she’s kind of lying on top of him - knees and elbows bracing her weight and keeping her from falling against him. 

Not once do they stop kissing.

His hands move slowly, almost hesitatingly, up her back - toying with the small buttons that run up the dress from the small of her back to her neck. His fingers pluck at them - he knows he’s probably allowed to undo them, but there’s a small part of him that’s still terrified that he’s about to get smacked if he does. 

She’s nibbling on his bottom lip - sucking the flesh between his teeth and giving it a tiny bite, before letting it go again and pressing her lips to the very spot she just attacked. She pecks him gently on the lips and leans back again. 

“You can undo them, Nick. I’m not going to get mad if you start taking my dress off.”

He just nods, licking his lips as he gazes up at her. 

She’s shaking her head, an amuse expression on her face. “Ok, look…if it makes you feel better…” Her fingers move at a speed he wasn’t expecting - or actually realized existed - and the first three buttons of his shirt are suddenly open. He looks down at his now exposed chest and then back up at her, nodding encouragingly. She makes quick work of the rest of the buttons - pushing the shirt off his shoulders slightly.

“There…see, you’re practically…wow!”

“W-wh-what?” Okay, so maybe he wasn't as confident about this whole thing as he was trying to give off because watching her undo his shirt nearly did him in. Nick was so insanely turned on - he wanted to touch her so badly it hurt…well, there was another part of his body that was aching rather intensely, but he couldn’t think about that just yet. But at the same time, he felt as though he was in a state of free fall - unable to grasp hold of anything tangible, terrified that everything that was happening was going to just slip away. 

Jess smiled. “I’m wowing because this…” she pointed to his exposed chest and midriff, “…it’s just still hard to get over. Nick…you have pecs and…abs! And your arms…Jesus, Nick!” 

“You saw all this on Sunday!” 

“But…now I’m getting a closeup.” 

She ran her hands over his chest - her palms dragging over the delicate flesh of his nipples. The sensation was exhilarating - his head dropped back and he moaned loudly. He opened his eyes slowly, head spinning from the fact she was touching his chest. Her face swam slightly in his field of vision, but he could tell she was still smiling. He pushed himself up, bracing himself on his hands, so he could yank off his shirt. There…now he was shirtless with Jessica Day looming over him on his couch. “Better view?” He asked, a smirk evident in his voice. 

She dipped her head and kissed a line across his neck and collarbone. 

Nick stopped being able to think for a moment…all his energies had to be pushed into keeping himself from coming in his pants right then and there. Slowly, he brought his hands back up to the back of her dress. He knew his hands were shaking. 

He undid the first button by the nape of her neck…she licked his neck. 

(He whimpered…loudly.)

He undid the second button…she kissed his collarbone.

(“Fuck…Jess…” He mumbled under his breath.)

He undid the third button…she kissed his left pec.

(He flexed his pecs a little…she smirked at him.)

He undid the fourth…she kissed his right peck.

(He groaned and resisted the urge to rip her dress off her.)

He undid the fifth…she licked a stripe across his chest. 

(The noises he was making…he sure as fuck didn’t sound like himself.)

He undid the sixth…she bit down on a nipple. 

(He cried out and bucked his hips.)

He undid the seventh…she bit down on his other nipple.

(He bucked his hips again, groaning out “Jesus…” His voice was strained and rough with want.)

He undid the eighth - and final - button…she kissed her way back up his until her lips were brushing against his. He brought their mouths back together as he slowly pulled her dress off of her shoulders. 

And then, suddenly, her weight was gone. She pushed herself off of him and stood up.  He didn’t like this development at all…and his face morphed into one of his patented grumpy expressions. But his face was laced with desire - he loved watching her. She stood next to the couch, looking down at him, and - with the sultriest expression he’d ever seen - slowly slipped her dress off.

(Oh…holy fuck…)

His brain nearly exploded as her dress slowly pooled at her feet, leaving her dressed only in a pair of pink and black bra and panties. He allowed himself a long second to admire her body - it was still as perfect as he remembered it: trim and fit, her breasts perky and full, and her legs seemed endless. All he wanted was to just kiss and touch every single inch of that body. 

And then he saw the it…it wasn’t small, but it also wasn’t huge. On her left hip was a tattoo - a small red bird in flight - insanely lifelike, almost as though she’d had a photographed tattooed there. He sat up, tugging her closer so he could see it better. He let one finger trace the image. This was new.

“It’s a cardinal.” Her voice was a near whisper. He could tell it was important to her. 

“It’s…” He started, but before he could say something lame or idiotic about it, she interrupted. 

“Its for him…or her…” Her voice sounded sad, and all at once he understood what she meant. The bird was for baby she’d - they’d - lost. He nodded. Then leaning forward he pressed his lips to it. 

“It’s perfect.” He whispered against her skin. He slipped off the couch and onto his knees - turning her so he could press his face against her stomach - soaking in her smell and the sensation of her bare skin against his face. He felt her fingers tangling themselves in his hair - scratching lightly at his scalp…he’d always loved the sensation of her playing with his hair - maybe he should grow it out a little again. 

She tugged on his hair, drawing his attention upwards. He turned to look up at her - she was looking down at him with a strange expression. “Nick…” Her voice sounded equally strange, she seemed to be asking him something - almost pleading. 

And, hey, he got it. The tattoo was a gateway to talking about the baby and her depression and all the bad things that had happened for the three years they’d been apart. She didn’t want to dwell on that right now. She wanted to focus on the fact that they were both almost naked and had just been making out - hotly - on his couch. 

He had to reestablish the mood. 

So, he did the only thing he could think of…he leaned down and licked one long, hot strip along the crotch of her panties - tasting the flesh hidden behind the thin fabric. 

She moaned loudly, her head falling back as her grip in his hair tightened.

Then he felt himself getting pulled up, a move which he happily obliged - using his rather powerful legs to do so. He grinned as she stepped into his arms, pulling him into a kiss. He grunted as he tugged her as close to him as she could get - he relished the fevered sensation of her skin pressed against his. It felt like his skin was burning up at her touch - that if he looked at his body in a mirror, there would be burn marks littered across his chest and arms. 

“God…” He moaned into her neck. 

“So…” Her voice, slightly muffled by his chest, was quiet and a little self conscious. “…want to show me the rest of your place, especially the bedroom?”

He nodded and let her step out of his arms. Only, as she was turning to walk down the hallway, he reached out and grabbed her - lifting her into his arms in one easy move. He tucked his left arm under her knees, while wrapping his right around her back - she wrapped both arms around his neck. He kissed her again - mostly because he’d always loved kissing her exactly like this. It was a completely familiar kiss - but also entirely new. As they slowly drew apart from the kiss, she buried her face in his neck. He started down the hallway. 

As they walked down his hallway, he noticed her taking in the rest of the condo - she peered curiously into the dark office, taking in each of the frame movie posters, and looked curiously at the various photographs he had hung on the wall. But it was her reaction to his bedroom that made him feel the most pride - her eyes widened as she took in the bank of windows that cornered his bed, the long walk in closet that took up one whole wall and the door to the en-suite bathroom. The room was bathed in that same orangey glow that had illuminated the rest of the condo when they’d arrived - it glinted off his charcoal grey sheets and was reflected in the shiny surface of his dresser and bedside table. It felt as though the room was alive with the light - making for a very dramatic sight. 

He carried her carefully to the bed, lowering her gently onto the sheets. She was still staring at the windows. He grinned as he leaned down to kiss her, his hands moving down to undo his belt buckle. “I take it you like it?”

“How do you sleep?”

“Huh?” He was sliding his pants off, kicking them off his feet.

“You have no curtains. How do you sleep with all this light?”

“Oh! Right…uh…well…have you heard of Smart Glass?” He sat down next to her, pulling his socks off - he was dressed only in his black boxer briefs, and he noticed that she was taking in the sight excitedly.

“What?”

“Here…watch…this is so cool!” He reached over onto this bedside table and picked up a tiny remote, pressing one of the buttons, which sent a electromagnetic charge through the windows, turning them completely opaque - effectively blacking out the whole room. 

“Oh my god!” She sat up on the bed, staring at the now dark windows. “That’s amazing!” 

“I know, right? First night I spent here, I couldn’t make them work - cause there were no batteries in the remote - so I had to sleep with all that light…I was sure I’d been cheated and would hate living here. I kept yelling at the windows. But now, they’re the best thing about this place - next to the view.” 

“Nick Miller, still irrationally angry at technology.”

“You should hear what I sometimes say to my phone.”

“I hope I get to…so, it’s really dark in here now.” Her hand came up slowly to touch his face. The room was completely pitch black, just a tiny touch of light was coming from his alarm clock, but it wasn’t really enough to let him see her. He crawled across the bed, switching on his bedside lamp - casting the room in a warm yellow light. 

She looked around the bedroom - nodding and smiling. “This is a very grown up bedroom, Nick.”

“Does it suit a grown up Nick?” 

“Yes - I think it does. So far, this whole apartment - your whole life - suits you.” She ran her hand across the sheets, savouring the sensation. “And these are some expensive linens.”

“Yeah, who knew…I like nice things.”

“Well, you dated me…so, it was pretty obvious.”

“You’re not a thing, Jess…”

“I was making a joke.”

“I know. And having you in my life, makes every nice car or set of sheets or fancy condo pale in comparison, okay?”

“Thank you. Nick…” Her voice grew quiet and serious.

“Yeah.” He nuzzled her nose.

“I do love you. I don’t think I said it earlier - but I still do love you. I never stopped.”

“I love you too, Jess. So…uh…”

“Yes, Nick?”

“Can we take the rest of our clothes off now?”

She pushed her hair back, and grinned. Then she slowly crawled towards him on the bed - her hand moving deftly towards his boxers. “Oh…I think we can, and we should. I’ve missed little Nick…”

“Not so little…”

***10am - The Following Morning***

Nick’s eyes, despite burning with exhaustion, could not stay closed. It was as though he just didn’t want to fall asleep on the off chance that this whole thing was actually some kind of crazy dream and that the moment he actually did drift off to sleep, she would disappear. Or maybe it was because his body was practically throbbing with adrenaline…the sheer reality of having her in his arms was almost too much for him. 

No. There’d be time for sleep later. But for now, all he wanted to do was lie here breathing her in and watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. 

He slowly traced one finger down her side, causing her to shudder involuntarily and shift a little closer to him. He smiled and pressed his face into her hair - he hadn’t felt this good in a very long time. 

Nick’s eyes forced themselves closed, and images of the night before played out across his psyche. The way her body responded to his touch…his lips…his tongue. The sight of her hand trailing slowly down his chest and stomach to grip his hard dick and the sound of his voice moaning in response. The way she looked, lying beneath him as he braced himself on his elbows, her face awash with desire and anticipation before he entered her for the first time. And the feeling of how intensely they came together that first time…

And how - in the afterglow - while curled up together, they’d both whispered words of love to each other. 

Last night had felt perfect in nearly every single way. It had actually felt like they might be able to move past all the crap that hung over them - they’d worked it out, or at the very least gotten a good start on doing so. But what was perhaps even more spectacular was the fact that Jess refused to let his stupid mistakes hinder them…she was willing to forgive and forget. Well…forgive at least. 

And he had no intention of holding anything she did against her - he wasn’t that big of an asshole. He might have been hurt - shattered - three years ago, but that didn’t mean he could ever hate. She’d gone through hell and back…and she’d come back to him. She’d fought out of her depression to come back to him…he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to help her get the reward at the end of that journey. Nope. She was back. She was here - in his arms - and they were going to find a way to get back to what they were meant to be. 

Together.

Plus, this time it had to stick - it just had to. Two people could not possibly be given this many chances in life unless they were meant to be together - right? They had to work out. The first time they’d come together, neither of them had been ready for it. Sure, they’d both wanted it, but they just hadn’t been quite there yet. They needed to grow up a little bit. So, breaking up - while awful and gross and terrible - had been necessary, because it meant they’d be ready the next time. 

And the next time had been perfect - there was no other way to describe it. What they’d managed to build between, it had been perfect. They had been ready to build the life they both wanted with each other. But then, the universe or fate or what-the-fuck-ever had intervened. Yet that connection…the bond between then…it had never really been broken. Because they’d both been lost without each other. And finding each other again - reconnecting they way were - it was proof that they were meant to be. 

Nick was positive of it. 

The sensation of a hand gently rubbing his chest knocked Nick out of his thoughts and back into reality - Jess was awake. He rather loved the feeling of her hand softly stroking his chest. He lay there, eyes closed, relishing how intimate and whole this made him feel. His whole body vibrated with each touch of her fingers. 

He let a small contented sigh escape his lips. 

She laughed quietly. 

They lay like that for a long time, cocooned in the dark room, enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed against each other. He drew patterns into her back with his fingers, while she lazily ran her fingers through his chest hair.       

“You awake, there, Miller?”

“I hope so…cause I want this to be real.”

“It’s real.”

“Thank god.” He opened his eyes and looked down at her. Her eyes were shining brightly in the darkness - she was looking at him, a small smile on her lips. Even in the darkness of the room, he could make out her smile. She has repositioned herself so her face was balanced on his shoulder, her hair had messily tumbled down over her shoulders, and she had tugged the sheets back over her - covering her rather alluring skin.  “You look beautiful.” He whispered. 

“No, I don’t - I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“You look beautiful.” He said again. 

She just laughed and hid her face in his neck, shaking her head. 

“I’ll keep saying it till you believe me.” He muttered into her hair. 

“I know. God, your bed is comfortable - much nicer than that awful murphy bed I have to sleep on.”

“I graduated to a real big boy bed. No more lumpy mattresses for me. Your old pillow-top kind of ruined every other bed for me. So I had to get one.”

“Well, I’m glad you did - that was the best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

“Good…and you look right at home here.”

“In your bed, or in your bed with you?”

“Both. I bet you’d still look perfect if I got up.”

“Let’s not risk it, okay.”

“I’m not moving, don’t worry.”

“Good…what time is it?”

Nick turned his head, reluctantly, and glanced at his alarm. “Uh, ten-thirty.”

Jess groaned and shifted in the bed, pushing herself up onto her elbows. She tugged the sheet higher, wrapping it around herself - covering her breasts. She reached out and stroked his beard, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

“You okay, Jess?” He trailed his hand down her arm. 

“Yeah. I was just thinking how amazing all this is. It feels a little surreal.”

“But you’re okay with it, right?”

“Yes, I’m more than okay with it. It just feels so…unreal…that I finally get to wake up with you again. It’s not strange or anything like that - it just feels natural. To open my eyes and see you here - to feel your arms around me - it’s like I found what was missing for so long.”

Nick smiled and pushed himself up, bringing their foreheads together. “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that.” 

“You know, we still have a lot to talk about, right? It’s not as if we can just fall back into our old relationship - this is a whole new thing.”

“I know, Jess. I know. But, can we just have this morning…can we just have lazy morning sex, and then I’ll make you breakfast…and after all that we can start talking. I guess…I mean, fuck…I’ve waited three years to get a shot at this again. Let me have the fun part before the work starts, okay?”

“That’s fair…so, lazy morning sex, huh?” She shifted herself closer, leaning down to brush her lips across his. 

“If you want. Hey, I’m just giving you the option in case I wore you out last night.” He settled both his hands on her hips.  

“Oh! If I’m remembering right, you were the one who was worn out.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pulled her onto of him so she was straddling him. “I could’ve gone all night…and watch out, cause I’m raring to go.”

“Well…then, buckle up mister…I’ll give you the ride of your life.”

He smiled up at her. She was smiling back. Her skin had that beautiful, delicate blush to it and her hair fell in waves down over her shoulder and across her face. He reached up and stroked her face - trailing a finger down across her neck and collarbone, eventually coming to cup her breast. With one rough finger, he stroked her nipple - watching it harden under his touch. A jolt of intense desire shot through him. “Jess…”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me…”

Grinning, she lowered herself down over him, bringing their mouths together as she shifted one hand between his legs - cupping his balls. His moan was loud enough to echo throughout the condo. 

“Fuck…Jess…don’t you dare stop!”

—/—

Ok, so Nick was starting to think that he might have to re-evaluate things he considered sexy. Seeing a woman wearing one of his shirts, well that would always be sexy to him -  especially when it was Jess - but seeing Jess in one of his shirts, curled up on his sofa looking out the window, and sipping a cup of coffee…that had to be the ultimate definition of sexiness. 

Nick was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the doorjamb, holding his own coffee - watching her. He wanted to join her on the couch, but he also really wanted to just keep stay right here. He knew that she could tell he was watching her - probably because of his reflection in the window. And, as if in response to what he was thinking, she turned slightly and asked, “Nick, why are you staring at me?”  

“Cause you look amazing sitting there.”

“It’s creepy. Sit down.”

“Sorry. I have breakfast ready.”

She unfurled herself, putting the cup on the coffee-table, and stood up. “Great!” She stretched her arms above her head, exposing her panties and the barest hint of her tan and firm stomach - he nearly dropped his mug at the sight. It was all too obvious that he was gawking at her - she shook her head and pointed to his table. “You can do more than stare after breakfast…but for now, I’m starving.”

Nick needed to, very consciously, remind himself how to walk - carefully putting one foot in front of the other, he managed to make it to the table. 

“Uh, Nick?” She was laughing softly

“Yeah?” He looked up at her, confused as to why he was at the table. 

“Our food?”

“Huh? Oh…shit…right…sorry.” He’d managed to forget their actual breakfast in the kitchen. He jumped up and hurried back into the kitchen, grabbing their plates - eggs and toast with avocado, plus a couple bowls of strawberries and blueberries. 

He slid the plate in front of her, muttering another apology for being so absent minded. But his distraction had been genuine. He thought he’d gotten used to the idea of her in his home - nearly naked - sitting on his furniture and talking to him as though this was an everyday occurrence and existed entirely in the realm of normality. But then he saw her stretch - saw his shirt ride up and expose that amazingly perfect skin of hers - showing off her tattoo, which he now couldn’t help find highly erotic, despite knowing its connotations. So, when he saw that, his brain had gone completely blank - he was barely able to form a coherent thought, much less remember to actually serve. 

He had to focus…he really needed to focus! He pushed the image of her - and her bare midriff with that tattoo - out of his brain, and smiled at her, totally ready to act like a normal person. Although…she’d promised that after breakfast…Crap crap crap…he was getting distracted again. 

The light touch of her hand on his arm brought him back to down to earth. She was smiling one of her brilliant smiles at him. “You disappear into your own head a lot more than you used to.” 

"Yeah - I guess I do. It’s hard not to. There’s a lot going on that’s kind of…distracting…”

 “What scantily clad women wandering around your house isn’t common place?”

“Well, my cleaning lady sometimes takes liberties…”

“You do not have a cleaning lady, do you?”

“Her name is Helga, and she really rocks her Fruit of the Loom control top briefs.”

“You’re being irritating.”

“Hey - if you can’t handle the sexual being that is Helga, I can’t help you.”

Jess shook her head, smiling at him, as she picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. 

(Oh god, even watching her eat was arousing!)

“So - uh…” Nick really needed to get his thoughts and speech under control, this was getting out of hand. “…I have a question.”

“Mmhm?” She raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. 

“What are you doing now? Uh, for work, that is.”

“Oh! Yeah, I suppose we haven’t actually talked about that, have we?”

“No, we’ve kind of been stuck on one set of subjects.”

She nodded, still smiling. “Well, I’m teaching again, but not as a vice-principal or anything.”

“Just a regular old teacher?”

“No, actually - I’m teaching special education. I did a bunch of volunteering in Portland, working with special needs kids, and then I landed a job teaching special ed kids. But when I decided to move after the school year was done, the principal helped me get in touch with Westview Academy, and they hired me. I don’t officially start till September, but I’ve been helping them with their summer programs.”

“For real, Jess?! That’s amazing.”

“Yeah - and I’ve been doing some classes this summer, just to get me closer to being certified as a special needs educator.”

 “Do you like it?”

“I love it - Nick, honestly it’s the most amazing job. Those kids…they’re all so fantastic. I feel like I finally found what I’ve always wanted to be doing…it’s a perfect fit for me. When I’m working with those kids, I’m happy almost all the time.” Watching her talk, he couldn’t but notice a slight change in her - as though a light switch had been thrown on, and this inner radiance was suddenly there.  

“I’m proud of you.” He reached out and grasped her hand. “Really, I am. I mean - look at you, Jess. You went through so much and here you are - stronger than ever, and finding something you love doing…it’s amazing.”

She swatted at him, an embarrassed blush rising on her face. “Thank you. It just feels so good to be doing something I love again and to feel…happy again.”

“I’m so glad you are, Jess. Really.”

“Nick…thank you for last night.”

“Uh - you’re welcome. Why are you thanking me?” He laughed - feeling oddly self conscious again.

“Because it was just so…perfect and amazing.”

“Yeah. And - uh - thank you for still being here this morning.”

“I told you, I want us to be us again - and I wanted to be here this morning, just as much as I wanted to be here last night. I’m happy…really happy that we’re trying again.” She’s turned in her chair to face him - a small, but serious, smile on her face. 

He watched her for a moment - she was happy, but mixed in with the happiness was this slight shyness, as though she was nervous about being here with him or as though she felt oddly exposed in front of him. The overwhelming need to touch her hits him - even though she’s an arms length away, he hates being this far away. Nick slips off his chair and shimmies over to Jess, his breakfast forgotten. He puts his hands on her thighs - and presses his face into her stomach. Her hands immediately tangle into his hair, he relishes the sensation. He keeps his eyes closed as he inhales - she smells like his cologne and his laundry detergent, as well as all those unique smells are her. 

“Are you okay, Nick?”

He just nods, the movement shifting the shirt higher up on her body, giving him access to her stomach. He presses a kiss over her belly-button. She squirms slightly - he’s forgotten that she’s ticklish there. He always loved tickling her as a kind of foreplay…although most of the time it just earned him a sore arm when she’d punch him to stop. But even so, rather than pull away, he pressed his lips even harder against her stomach - letting his tongue slide gently against her skin. She swats at him and tries to pull away. 

He glances up at her - his eyes flashing dangerously. 

“Nick - don’t you dare…”

“Not doing a thing…just kissing your stomach!”

“You know I’m ticklish and you know I’ll hit you to stop.”

“Maybe I don’t want to stop…”

“Then I’ll smack you.”

“Maybe I’ll only stop if you let me get you naked again.”

“What about breakfast?”

“Don’t care…” He mumbles.

“Nick…” She has that warning tone in her voice. The one that usually suggests he quit while he’s ahead. He shakes his head and leans forward again, pressing his lips to her skin…this time, he gently kisses her stomach and then starts pressing tiny kisses down towards the top of her panties - trailing his tongue along her skin as he does. 

He looked back up at her. “Still ticklish?”

“N..no.”

“Still worried about breakfast?”

“Nick…”

“What?”

“You’re insatiable.”

“You always liked that about me.” He loops a finger into the top of her panties. “Now…can I?”

Before she gets the chance to say anything, the sound of some old Lady Gaga song suddenly fills the room. The sheer suddenness of the sound causes Nick to jump, bumping Jess and nearly knocking her out of her chair. “What the fuck!” He glanced around the condo - searching for whatever’s making that noise. 

Jess gets up and hurries over to her purse. “Sorry! It’s my phone…sorry!”

“Why the hell do you have Lady Gaga as a ringtone?”

“It’s Dave’s!”

“Of course it is…”

“Sorry…let me just get this, and then…well, you know.” She blushes and nods towards the bedroom. Even after all this time, she still can’t really describe oral sex…or sex of any kind…without blushing. He smiles and plunks himself back down in front of his breakfast, waving at her to answer the phone. 

A second later, she sat back down across from him, the phone tucked against her ear. 

“Hello Dave.”

[…]

“No. I’m at Nick’s.”

[…]

“Yeah, I spent the night.”

[…]

“Don’t give yourself all the credit there, mister! But thank you for last night…and as for your other question, well, that’s just none of your business.”

[…]

“Don’t be disgusting! You’re being gross.”

[…]

“Well…I wouldn’t ask you for details on your sex life with Chris, would I?”

[…]

“We’re not talking about this! Where are you?”

[…]

“What are you doing at UCLA?”

[…]

“Why not?”

[…]

“Dave, what’s going on?”

[…]

“Dave…something is going on and I don’t understand why you’re not telling me about it! What’s wrong?”

[…]

“Yeah. I can do that.”

[…]

“What time?”

[…]

“I need to go home and change and feed Mary-belle. So I need at least an hour.”

[…]

“Answer me honestly, how many times have you eaten at In-N-Out since you arrived?”

[…]

“Then we’re not eating there - I think five times is enough.”

[…]

“No…I don’t know where to go then.”

Nick waves, trying to get Jess’ attention. She looks at him, muttering something into the phone, then quirks an eyebrow at him. He smiles, “There’s a great little Korean place near the campus, called Gushi. Go there. They have great food.” She nods and turns back to the phone. 

“Hey, so there’s a Korean place - called Gushi. Let’s meet there in an hour and a half?”

[…]

“Whatever. I’ll meet you there.”

[…]

“You’re being gross again.”

[…]

“Okay, I’m hanging up. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

She listened for another second as Dave apparently said goodbye then put the phone down on the table. Nick was chewing a forkful of eggs thoughtfully, his eyes trained on her. She picked up her own fork and pushed her eggs around. 

“You okay, Jess?”

“Yeah. I don’t know…something’s up with him.” 

“Did he say why he was at UCLA?”

“No. Just that he had something to do there and that we could talk about it over lunch.”

Nick nods, knowing she’ll continue without him saying anything.

“Dave doesn’t keep secrets, Nick. It’s like one of his rules. He doesn’t keep secrets from anyone.”

“Maybe its not a secret…maybe it's just something he feels more comfortable talking about in person.”

“I suppose.” She frowned down at her plate, moving her eggs from one end of the plate to the other. 

“What’s wrong?” He put down his fork and took her hand. 

“I ruined our day…I’m leaving to go see Dave.”

“You ruined nothing. I’ve had the best morning - and its because of you. You want to go see your friend…I’ll still be here later.”

“Can we see each other tonight?”

“Yes. I’m going to do something crazy, and leave Charlie in charge of the bar, so we can go on a date or whatever.” As he said it, Nick realized that for the first time since he opened The BarRail, he wasn’t putting the bar first…he wasn’t going to be overseeing everything. And, for the first time in a very long time, he was taking a night off. And…and he was okay with it. 

“You sure?”

“Yes…” And he really was. “…but, since you need to leave soon, could I convince you to join me in the shower?”

“Will we actually shower?”

“I’ll make sure you get wet…”

“NICK!” She slapped his arm. 

He leapt up from the table and grabbed her hand. “Come on…you’re going to love my shower.”

She let herself be pulled into his arms and they slowly walked back towards the bedroom, lips permanently attached to one another. He really hoped Dave would be ok if she was a little late… 

Maybe only thirty minutes or something…

****7pm - Same Day.****

Nick Miller still had it. He could still plan pretty amazing dates - dates that would impress the pants off anyone. And even though his plan was pretty low key - he figured they needed it - it was still pretty awesome. He’d told her to meet him at The Pie Hole - the best little pie shop in the city - but to take an Uber or whatever, cause he’d be driving them after. From here, they’d take their pie and a bottle of nice wine and go find a spot somewhere in the Hollywood Hills, where they could see the city. 

He’d called Charlie almost as soon as Jess had left his place that morning, letting her that he was taking a night off, fuck he might even take two nights off! Charlie had acted like she wanted to breakout the champagne. She’d managed to get a mini confession out of him - after which he’d promised they could have dinner soon and he’d tell her everything that had happened over the last couple weeks. She’d even promised to cook - which meant that her girlfriend would actually cook, since Charlie could set fire to water if she tried. 

But none of that mattered. What mattered right now was the fact that Nick had a night off - and he wasn’t freaking out. What mattered that he had a date with Jess. What mattered was that he was happy…they were happy. 

Nick had gotten here five minutes ago, and was perched on one of the outdoor tables, waiting patiently - his shoulder bag in his lap - watching the street. There was a slight breeze in the air, which simply moved the stifling air around, rather than provide any relief. He was glad he’d gone for a short sleeve bowling shirt and slacks rather than a full on dress shirt and jeans. He was excited to get back into the air conditioned confines of his car.

Nick watched as a black car pulled up the curb, after a moment the back door opened and she stepped out. Her face blossoming into a huge smile the moment she saw him. A smile he easily returned. She was wearing a midnight blue shirt dress - open just at collar - and belted with a very thin silver belt. She’d rolled up the sleeves to expose a large cuff like bracelet that was studded with purple and yellow jewels on one wrist and a small delicate gold watch on the other. She was wearing a pair of yellow ballet flats on her feet and her hair was a cascade of curls down over her shoulders. She looked amazing. 

He hopped off the table and walked towards her. His arms instinctively encircling her waist when she was close enough. He pressed their lips together. She responded to the kiss with an intensity he wasn’t entirely expecting - as though she was desperate for him. He happily gave in. 

They pulled back after a moment, arms still looped around each other. 

She looked happy, but there was something else in her face - some other not entirely positive emotion. 

“You okay, Jess?”

She shook her head, but then smiled - as though confirming his idea that something contradictory was happening. 

 “So, I made a decision today.” Her voice was low.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Well, I made it after Dave told me that he’s accepted a job at UCLA.

“What?! That’s amazing!”

“It is. Except that he’s decided that either he and Chris are moving here, or he plans to divorce Chris and then move here…”

“What?!” Nick stepped back, searching her face to make sure she was ok.

She shook her head, she was either oddly okay with this or was hiding it well. “Yeah…I’m…I’m not sure what I’m feeling. But I decided something.”

“Jess…what…”

“I’m not going to let him do that…no, fucking way. But I’m also not going to let you be so alone anymore.”

“Uh…what?”

“We’re going to fix things, Nick. We’re going to find Winston and Cece and Schmidt, and we’re going to fix things…together. We’re going to get our friends back - together we’re going to fix what happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Long Kiss Good Night (http://www.drinksmixer.com/drink18xy149.html)
> 
> The school Jess now works at is: www.westviewschool.com/
> 
> The Pie Hole, a simply amazing bakery, can be found at: thepieholela.com


	15. Chapter 14 - The New Old Fashioned

***Two Months Later***

Nick fiddled with his coffee cup - absentmindedly picking at the cup’s plastic lid, ripping the plastic and effectively destroying in the small drinking hole. Without really realizing what he was doing, he shoved his finger straight through now huge hole, plunging it into straight into the hot liquid. Hissing, he yanked back his hand and sucked hard on his slightly tinged finger. 

As he was concentrating on sucking his finger - hoping to take the sting of the burn away - a plate with an enormous chocolate chip cookie on it and second cup of coffee appeared in the spot next to him. He glanced up to see Jess - also known as his absolutely amazing girlfriend - shaking her head at him. 

“What?” I burned myself?” He muttered around his finger. 

“I noticed. You’ve been picking at that cup since you sat down.”

“Sorry.” He pulled the lid off his cup and took a small sip. 

“What’s the matter, Nick? Its a beautiful day - you have the day off, I have the day off - we’re hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. We’re sitting on a gorgeous patio, drinking fantastic coffee! So, what’s the matter?” 

Nick glanced around him - she was right, it was an amazing patio. They were sitting in front of Inelligentsia Coffee in Silver Lake, whose patio was filled dozens of trendy looking people typing away at laptops and iPads - all probably working on a screenplay or novel they envisioned as being the next big thing. Nick could practically smell the desperation and hopefulness hanging in the air. Except for he and Jess - they were here to just enjoy a day off together…doing couple-y things all day.  

They had been back together for two months now. Two months of absolute bliss, as far as Nick was concerned. Ever since that first night together, Nick and Jess had been practically inseparable. Right from the start, they’d decided to commit one hundred perfect to redeveloping and renewing their relationship, and so far it was working exactly as planned. Most nights, even those Nick had to work super late, often found them together - she’d just appear at The BarRail and would hang out, chatting with him or Charlie, until he could get home. Or she’d be sleeping in his bed when he’d get home or some nights he’d just go straight to her place once he’d left the bar. 

It had only taken two weeks before he’d handed her a set of keys to his place, telling her that after three years apart, he had no intention of not having her around anymore. Two nights later, she’d handed him a set of keys to her place. Heck, he’d even gone out and bought a kitty litter box and cat food for those nights when Jess would bring Mary-belle with her…usually on a Friday, when they both knew they wouldn’t be leaving the condo for a few days. 

But what was even more miraculous, was how Jess had managed to get him to start taking breaks…actual time off! He worked five days out of seven now, and even then, he only worked till close only a couple days. For years, he had never really allowed himself to even consider taking time off - he didn’t want to, he liked worked. Work had been his life - he’d forced himself to see work as fun - but the moment she walked back into his life, work just didn’t have that same appeal anymore. No, now he had somewhere else to be - he was rediscovering what was actually fun in life again. 

He didn’t just go from home to the bar and back home again. His life didn’t just revolve around how big the night’s receipts were or fresh Americanos from his Nespresso or who the next VIP to walk into the bar was going to be. Now, he went on dates - dinner, movies, lazy evenings with Jess at home…fuck, they’d even gone away for a weekend to La Jolla. Yeah…there was no doubt about it, Jess’ return had completely changed Nick. He was more relaxed. He laughed more. He might not having given up his exercise obsession or the eating healthy, but he was more willing to have a slice of pie or the occasional burger now…because somehow, having her around again made him feel like he could. 

The last two months had felt like some kind of honeymoon, where he’d allowed himself to be lulled into a blissful fog - a wonderful, sex-filled fog - but sadly, that did not mean Jess had forgotten her promise. Two months ago, she’d committed to reconnecting him with Winston and Schmidt - and Cece of course. And, for the last two months, he’d managed to ignore said promise, despite the fact that she was gathering a lot of information, which was about to be handed to him. So, this morning, she’d announced a coffee date in Silver Lake, with the promise to explain her plan to fix Nick’s loneliness (which he didn’t think he suffered from) and talk about Dave’s impending arrival. 

Dave’s arrival - and preventing his maybe impending divorce - had been a rather hot topic between them. And if they weren’t talking about Dave, they were talking about making sure Nick broke out of his lonely little world. And yet, all Nick wanted today was to spend the day with Jess without all these intense plans and ideas. He just wanted a day to himself, with Jess. Which felt like an impossibility because Jess had become rather single minded about all of this. 

Much to his chagrin. And, he figured, much to Dave’s chagrin as well. 

“Nick?” Her voice pulled him back out of his thoughts. She was looking at him, her sunglasses pushed down on her nose, and her brow was slightly squished with concern. 

“Yeah…I’m sorry, Jess. I’m just a bit stressed out about all this.” 

“What’s there to be stressed out about?”

Nick sighed and waved his hand, dismissing the question. She knew that he didn’t want to talk about this - every time she brought it up, he got awkward and weird. 

“Nick…I’m not trying to upset you.”

“I know. I know that Jess.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus. “How about you just tell me what you found and then we can deal with how I’m dealing with it.”

“Sure.” She glanced at her watch. He knew she was also waiting for a call from Dave, who was arriving at LAX that evening; they were picking him up. As far as they knew, he was arriving alone…although, Jess was really hopeful that Chris would also be walking through the arrivals gate that evening.  

He reached out and put his hand on hers. “You know, its not your responsibility to fix them, right?”

She nodded - knowing exactly what he meant. “I know. But when Dave told me he was going to move here, no matter what, I guess I figured that there was no way Chris would ever let Dave move on his own - there was no way that my two best friends would end up getting divorced over something as…stupid as this!” 

“It’s not stupid, Jess. Like you said, Dave’s realized that he needs a change, that he needs to get away from something that’s hurting his mental health - right?”

“Yeah…and he’s been so miserable in Portland lately.”

“And he’s asking the one person in the world that he loves and trusts the most to help and support him…and that person isn’t manning up.”

“I know. And believe me, I’m so mad at Chris for acting like this. But, it just hurts to think that this could even happen - Nick, you’ve only seen them together the once, but they’re so good together.”

“Well, then, who knows, maybe Chris will surprise us and he’ll be at the airport with Dave tonight.”

“I hope so. But I think I would have heard by now.”

Nick linked their fingers together, smiling at her. “Have faith - where’s my uber-optimistic girlfriend?”

“She’s here.” Jess leaned over and kissed him. He smiled into the kiss - suddenly feeling, for the first time that afternoon, a sense of calm overtake him. As she pulled back, a smile was resting on her face - making her seem even more luminescent than normal. “So…can I tell you what I’ve found?”

Nick sighed, bracing himself for whatever was about to come his way, then nodded. “Sure…tell me.”

She grinned and pulled her iPad out of her purse. “Ok, well first off, this actually did take forever - the only one who was easy to find was Winston, surprisingly.”

“Why were you surprised?”

“Dunno…I always figured that Schmidt would be all over every social media tool out there.”

“He wasn’t?”

“No - well, yes. Okay, that’s confusing. What I mean is that he had his Facebook - but I didn’t want to friend him - and he has an Instagram, but it’s private. And I only managed to find him on LinkedIn yesterday - he didn’t even have a profile picture, which is weird…for him.”

“Man…when he commits to disappearing, he really commits, huh?”

“I don’t think he did all this just to get away from you, Nick!”

“Maybe he did it so Cece couldn’t find him or something?”

“”Maybe…”

“So, he’s still in the city?”

“No. He doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Oh. So, where does he live?”

“Sacramento.”

“He moved to Sacramento? Wow…why?”

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you - I lost my mind reading abilities…”

“Don’t get sassy.”

“Don’t ask dumb questions.”

“Wasn’t dumb - it was rhetorical.”

Jess pivoted her iPad so he could see the screen. On it was some fancy website’s About Us page - staring at him from the very top of the screen was Schmidt’s smiling face. “Anyway, he works at some big marketing thing in Sacramento, he’s a manager, but the website uses some pretty fancy language to describe what he does, so he might not be a manager…”

“I bet he came up with the term himself - same old, Schmidty.” Nick smiled, remembering how desperate Schmidt often was to make himself seem much more important than he actually was at his old job. Nick had spent years trying to get Schmidt to stop trying so hard - but he rarely had any luck with that. Nick frowned at the screen and pulled it closer to him, reading Schmidt’s biography. 

_Decades  of experience has taught me that marketing is more than just about selling yourself - its about being ahead of the curve, always trying to get on board with the latest and newest trend. You need to be better than yourself! You can be that person, with my help. I will help you create the image and style you need to get ahead in your business endeavour. We’ll work together to make you into the best you possible - that’s the Schmidt guarantee._

Nick read the text a few times over - it was so painfully and horribly Schmidt that Nick almost felt at a loss for words. Schmidt’s face was smiling at him from the screen - that goofy and loveable smile that Nick hadn’t seen in three years. He missed his friend. 

Fuck…he really did miss his friends. 

Sucking in a breath, mostly to prevent himself from tearing up, Nick looked back up at Jess. “Okay - what else?”

She nodded and pulled the tablet back to her, tapping furiously. Her face was slightly contorted - he knew right away that she was about to talk about Cece. He grabbed her hand - stopping her tapping - her eyes snapped up to meet his. “Jess. If you don’t want to talk about her, we don’t have to. We don’t have to go out and find her, we can find the other guys first and then, when you’re ready, we can go talk to her.”

Jess’ eyes fell back down to stare at the tablet again, but this time he wasn’t entirely sure she was actually seeing what was on the screen. Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I want to. I mean, I know it’s going to be hard - if she even wants to talk to me - but I need to do this. I promised that I would try to fix all of this, and I will.”

“You don’t have to do this, Jess. There’s nothing to fix…I have an amazing life right now, with you! We don’t have to fix this - me! - we can focus on Dave and on us. That’s more than enough, babe.”

She reached up, playing with his beard causing him to nuzzle into her hand. “I know. And I’ve been thinking about that, but I want to Nick, okay? I want to.”

He nodded, knowing that there would be no changing her mind now. He pointed at the tablet. “Okay. So, what did you find out about her?”

“Okay, remember how I said that Cece left LA? Well, I found her - she’s all over social media, but she shortened her last name, weirdly.”

“To what?”

“Par. That’s it - just Par, like the golf thing…”

“Right. Of course, the golf thing…very descriptive.” Nick rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t tease me. Anyways, she lives in San Francisco…which is less than two hours form Sacramento, by the way.”

“You think they still see each other?”

“No idea…I want to think so though.”

“What’s she doing in Frisco”

“No one calls it that, Nick. And she works for a fashion consultant firm…”

“So she picks out clothes for people…”

“Yeah, I guess…wait, I had to look that up. How do you know what a fashion consultant does?”

“I used one when I was starting the bar.”

“I…I have no response to that.”

Nick just rolled his eyes again. Then, wanting to move on from Cece - before any of his residual guilt set in. “So, we know where she is, so how about we move on. What about Winston?”

Jess’ whole face lit up as she excitedly tapped on her iPad again. “That’s the best news - he’s still here in LA. He and that girl he was dating three years ago…”

“Sarah.” Nick offered softly. 

“Right, her. They’re still together - his Instagram account seems to be mostly pictures of her and Ferguson…”

“Damn cat.”

“Hush - let me finish. And you have no right to talk…I saw you carrying Mary-belle around on your shoulder the other day.”

“It’s different with Mary-belle!”

Jess rolled her eyes at him with a soft laugh. “Anyways…he and Sarah are engaged!”

“What?!” Nick leaned forward to look at the screen, there smiling up at him was Winston - his hair was still cut incredibly short and he still had that wide smile that Nick had known since he was five years old. Standing next to him was a petite brunette, whose broad smile mirrored Winston’s - underneath the picture was a single caption: “Engaged!” 

Nick stared at the photo - the photo was at least six months old. Winston, his oldest friend, had been engaged for six months. And Nick had no idea…Nick had been so effectively cut out of his friend’s life that he didn’t even warrant knowing about an engagement. Nick felt a wave of remorse and sadness wash over him - suddenly, going through with this plan of Jess’ was the very last thing he wanted to do. They didn’t want him in their lives - he’d fucked up so terribly, why would they? They had written him off - cast him into the one category that he belonged in: the past. 

He pushed the tablet towards Jess, shaking his head. “Let’s forget about this, Jess. Okay? Let’s not do this, okay? Let’s just pretend that you couldn’t find them…he didn’t even tell me about his engagement, he doesn’t want me in his life. None of them do. Can we just forget it…”

“Nick…please…”

“Let’s talk about anything else…what you want to do today. Where we should go on our next weekend away or…”

“Nick!”

“Please…Jess…I don’t want to do this.”

“I talked to him.”

Nick paused, the blood slowly draining from his face. “What?! Wait…what?” He leaned forward. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about this - Jess had talked to Winston. He always thought that they would be doing this together - that they would be working on this whole reconciliation thing together. He felt slightly light headed - he wasn’t expecting this. 

“I’m sorry, Nick…damn, did I screw up?”

“No…god no! But what happened?”

“Yesterday, after you went to work, I found him on Facebook and I just…I tried friending him. He accepted in less than a minute and then he sent me a message. We chatted - he told me to find his Instagram and sent me pictures of him and Sarah. When he asked me about what happened  three years ago…I…well…”

“What Jess?”

“I asked him out for coffee.”  

Nick actually jumped at the words. His heart started pounding and the the edges of his vision went a little blurry - he knew it wasn’t a panic attack or anything like that…more just a weird state of shock. He blew out a shaky breath and took a small sip of his coffee - it was only then that he became aware of her hand on his arm and the slightly frightened look on her face. “Okay…” he started, in an unsure voice, “I’m okay. I promise. But, how did it go?”

“Oh, God I’m sorry! Nick, I didn’t even think that this would upset you so much. I just couldn’t have that conversation over Facebook! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jess…really! I guess its just that when we talk about doing this - seeing them again - I never see it as the kind of thing that’s going to happen tomorrow, more like something that far away. And hearing that you talked to Winston…it’s just a shock. But I’m okay, Jess, really I am. And I’d never ask you to talk about that on something like on Facebook…that would be cruel and weird. But…just…how did it go?"

Jess ran her fingers through Nick’s hair, which he’d been growing out slightly - mostly so there was more hair for her to play with. He took hold of her other hand, stroking it softly. She smiled. “It was okay - I’m not sure why I didn’t talk to you about it last night…”

“Because I was working till three in the morning and you stayed at your place last night?”

“Right…but anyways, it was nice. We met at this little coffee shop near his place in the Valley and just talked. I told him everything.”

“And?”

“He cried. I wasn’t really expecting that…but all of a sudden, he was crying and I didn’t know what to do. I just sort of hugged him. Of course, then he got mad at me for not telling you guys and for running away…which is fine, I’ve heard it before!”

“Still…I don’t like it when people do that to you.” 

“It’s okay, Nick. Anyways - we talked about that a lot and about you a lot.”

“Oh…”

“I got mad at him for just leaving you alone like that, for cutting you out like he did…what happened was really between Schmidt, Cece and you - he should have had the back of his best friend. But he didn’t and that just wasn’t - isn’t - okay!”

“What did he say?” Nick knew all about Jess’ opinion of what had happened between their friends and him. He knew that she understood about Cece and Schmidt removing him from their lives, but she just refused to understand Winston’s actions. She got angry every time it came up. 

“He said that when he found out about you and Cee,that he just didn’t know what to think or do…but he was so mad at you. Apparently, you were right, it was him that got you to the hospital. He got home and found you passed out on the floor, a huge gash in your head from where you hit it on the sink, so he called 9-1-1, but he was so angry that he couldn’t even stay at the hospital with you.”

“Okay…that’s all fair. But is he still angry? Like, if I see him ever, I need to know what to expect.”

“No - but he did say that he’s mad at himself for letting your friendship just end like that…that he’s wanted to visit the bar for years, ever since that first review. But after how you two left it, he’s never felt comfortable.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

“I know. So…um…”

“What? Jess…what did you do?”

“He’s coming to The BarRail tonight at eight to have a drink with you.” She blurts it out in a kind of rush - as though the words are too much for her to say slowly. As soon as the sentence leaves her mouth, she starts to blush a deep red - her eyes averted.

“Jessica! What the hell!” Nick almost started to push himself up off his seat, a look of complete terror on his face.

“Nick…calm down! He asked if I could make it happen…he wants to see you. He asked if I could convince you to see him…it was his idea, all I did was say that I would ask you.”

“I’m not sure that I have an actual choice in this.”

“You do. Of course you do, all you have to say is that you’re not ready yet and I’ll call him and tell him so.” Her face was fixed into a small reassuring smile, one that he was surprised to discover, almost made him feel like he could handle doing this - like he could face the reappearance of his oldest friend. 

Besides, maybe if he got through seeing Winston again, it was enough to prove to himself that he could survive seeing Schmidt or even Cece again. He wasn’t sure that he actually believed he could survive those encounters, so perhaps - just perhaps - he could see this as a kind of test run. Or something. 

Plus…well…he did want to actually see Winston. He did miss his friend. 

Slowly, he nods. He’s not sure how - or if he’s as committed as he wants to be - but he’s agreeing to it. He’s half talked himself into it. He’ll do it. He’ll see Winston…and have probably one of the most fucking awkward conversations he’ll ever experience. But fuck it, if she believed in him…then he could do it. “Okay, Jess…I’ll have a drink in my bar with Winston. But what about picking Dave up?”

  
“You can do this, Nick! I believe in you! It’s just Winston, honey, he’s not that scary. And, I’m a big girl. I can handle picking Dave up at the airport. Maybe I could use the Lexus?” She finished by giving him her most flirtatious smile. He just smiled and started down at his coffee cup, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah…as long as you promise to take care of her.”

“Who would have thought that Nick Miller would care this much about a car…what did you name her again?”

“Don’t make fun…Miranda is a very delicate car.”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“I’m your weirdo…can I have a bite of you cookie?” He asked, already reaching over to break off a piece. 

—/—

In the two years that his bar had been up and running, Nick had never been in the position of a customer. It felt weird and awkward and just plain wrong. He felt stupid giving Andrew - his newest waiter - a drink order, when normally he’d be the one making the drink or taking the order himself. And it felt really strange watching Carlos - his bartender - make him a HollywoodLand, which was Nick’s version of an Old Fashioned - still a bourbon based drink, but with spicy orange bitters and demerara sugar instead of the traditional sugar cube. It took Nick a while to really get why this felt so strange, but he realized that in the three years that Jess had been gone, Nick almost never went out drinking - he stopped being a customer, and stayed happily in his safety zone as owner-bartender. He just wasn't used to being on this side of the bar anymore. 

That was probably why Charlie had given him such a strange look when he’d walked in the front door an hour earlier - especially when he told her that he wasn’t here to work, but to meet a friend and have a drink. He also figured that the fact he was dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans and a fitted blue and grey plaid shirt - his version of casual - also threw her off. 

_“You’re what?”_

_“Having a drink…with a friend.”_

_“So, not only are you saying you’re not here to work - much less micromanage the whole place - but you’re just going to sit there and have a drink…with a friend?”_

_“Yes, that’s pretty much verbatim what I just said.”_

_“Well…it’s just…I mean, I didn’t even realize you had other friends besides me and now Jess.”_

_“It’s Winston, dumb ass.”_

_“Oh shit!”_

_“Yeah, so I’m gonna take one of the booths - and act all aloof bar owner - and drink a lot.”_

_“Fuck, this is all so crazy! First Jess and you manage to make up and now you’re trying to…I don’t even know!”_

_“I’m scared shitless.”_

_“Obviously! Fuck, I’d be a wreck…I figured she would want to be here with you.”_

_“She has to go pick up Dave at the airport…and maybe find him a divorce counsellor.”_

_Charlie just shook her head. They hadn’t talked much about Dave - not that he really knew why they would - but he got the feeling that Charlie had some rather definitive thoughts on what was happening with Dave and Chris…and Jess. But she was keeping those opinions close to her chest for the moment. For now, however, Nick gave her a quick hug and moved off towards a booth at the farthest corner of the bar - somewhere private and slightly hidden from the rest of the bar. They all called that booth the ‘doing bad shit booth’ since people often took advantage of its seclusion._

_He slid onto the soft plush bench, waving over Andrew to ask for a drink, and then he started the waiting game._

Nick had managed to get there almost an hour and a half before Winston was supposed to show up. Mostly, so he could work up some liquid courage in the hopes that he didn’t just jump up and run out of the room the moment he saw his oldest friend. 

He sighed softly, swirling his drink lazily, and staring off towards the bar - watching as Carlos prepared what looked like a few Jesses for two women at the bar, both of whom were putting the flirt on quite heavily every time Carlos talked to them. Nick grunted in amusement as he pulled out his phone, glancing at the time - Winston was twenty minutes late. He sent a text to Jess. 

**Winston’s late…how long should I keep waiting?**

He had to wait all of five seconds before Jess responded. 

_Dave’s plane is delayed - the airport is boring. You wait - he’ll show._

Nick smirked - even through a text message, her optimism is fucking infectious! He took a sip of his drink and started typing out a reply, asking whether LAX was at least providing some good people watching, when a shadow fell across the table. He looked up - expecting Charlie.

Winston was standing there, wearing a very nervous smile, looking down at him. 

Winston was wearing a dark green dress shirt underneath a dark grey v-neck sweater, with grey slacks and - as Nick noticed appreciatively - a rather nice pair of black wing-tip shoes. He was twisting his hands together - clearly very anxious and worried about what was about to happen. He still had that small, well trimmed goatee and his hair was just as short as Nick remembered. Nick swallowed thickly…not entirely sure what to say. 

Thankfully, Winston broke the silence first. “Hey, man.”

And just like that, the last thirty years fell back into place - being friends with Winston as kids, as teenagers - doing stupid shit that no one but Nick’s dad was going to approve of. Seeing his friend off to play basketball in some god-damn Eastern European country and then getting to have him as a friend and roommate all over again…right up until Nick had fucked it all up. 

Nick pushed himself up from the booth - staring at Winston, but not quite believing that the guy was here. He took a step forward - it felt like the silence that was falling between then was endless. Nick’s eyes swept over his friend - he didn’t look any different…there were no remarkable lines or marks on his face, he still just looked like Winston. He was still fit and trim - so no change there. Nick’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and ran nervously along his bottom lip - he wasn’t entirely sure what he should do now. Slowly he nodded towards the booth - “Want a drink?” His voice was halting and unsure. 

Winston nodded and smiled. 

Nick had always wondered how he would act when confronted with his old friends again - would he be overjoyed and excited or angry or some other emotion that he hadn’t counted on. Like this - embarrassed and apprehensive. He felt struck dumb by the sight of Winston - even more so than when Jess had walked into his condo for the first time after three years. Maybe that was because he’d had a certain set of questions to ask Jess…he’d known the trajectory of what their conversation and reunion would be like; however, with Winston, there was no set trajectory or pattern…he just didn’t know what was coming. 

As they settled back into the booth, Nick realized that he was actually starting to shake. Clenching his fists as tightly as possible, Nick forced himself to get under control - he needed whatever reserves of strength he had to get through this…at least until he knew he was safe, and wasn’t going to be hurt or rejected again. 

“You okay, man?” Winston looked worried - probably remember how he’d found Nick passed out on the bathroom floor three years ago, head cracked open and breathing funny. 

Nick nodded. “Yeah…this is just another in a string of strange and unexpected things to happen in the last few months.”

“Yeah…I guess I can understand that. First Jess and now here I am…”

“Heard you got engaged!” Nick almost shouts - surprising even himself at the sheer force of the words coming out of his mouth. 

Winston, trying not to look too surprised at Nick’s slight eruption, smiles and nods. “Yeah, man, about six months ago. I dunno - the moment just felt right.”

“That’s great…I’m super happy for you.”  Fuck! This feels awkward - he has no idea how to break into the easy and normal banter that he and Winston used to share. He clears his throat and waves Andrew over - hoping that getting Winston to order a drink might help - he slides the little clip board menu across the table. “Whatever you want - on the house, okay?”

Winston gives him a look and shakes his head. 

“What? I own the damn place, Winston. If I want to buy you a drink, I can.”

“You sure?” Winston was also looking at the menu - his eyebrow rising slightly, probably when he saw The Jess on the menu. Winston slowly put the menu down, staring at Nick - a funny look on his face. “All these drinks look super fancy.”

“Yeah. I created them all.”

“Any come with little umbrellas?”

“No.” Nick frowned, forcing himself to suppress the rising sense of irritation he was starting to feel - he hated those cheap, gimmicky decorations that cheap bars use in their cocktails just to make the drinks seem fancier.

“That’s too bad - you know how I like fruity drinks with little umbrellas.”

“Have a Jess…its really fruity. Or a Heavenly Dip - that’s all strawberries.”

“You seriously have a drink named after her, man?”

Nick just nodded - daring the other man to question him. He didn’t want to feel this increasing wave of irritation at Winston, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t need or want the decisions he’d made for himself - and his business - for the last three years, questioned. Winston had walked out of his life - he’s made his choice, he didn’t have the right to question Nick. 

Winston just shrugged at Nick’s non-verbal answer and turned his attention to Andrew, who had just appeared next to the table. “I’ll try this famous Jess, please.” 

Andrew nodded and looked at Nick, “Another HollywoodLand, boss-man?”

Nick frowned - he really needed to get Charlie to stop making ‘boss man’ a thing. “Yeah. Thanks, Andrew. And stop calling me boss-man.” 

Andrew just smiled - which told Nick that his new nickname wasn’t going away anytime soon - and disappeared back towards the bar. Nick sighed and turned back to Winston, who was grinning like a fool. 

“What?”

“Boss-man…fuck, man, you did it! You own a bar - a pretty fucking awesome bar! I love the style.”

Nick, in-spite of his darkening disposition, found himself smiling back. This was the first time that Winston had ever been here - he was seeing all this for the first time, seeing how successful and amazing the bar was for the first time. “Yeah…it’s hard to believe that you’ve never been here. Like, how crazy is that?”

“Nick…man…I’m, shit, I’m sorry - okay?”

“Yeah. Me too. But I understand…”  

“No. I gotta explain, okay? Like - please?”

“Uh, sure.”

“After what went down with Schmidt and Cece - which was pretty fucked up, dude - I was just so pissed at you, man. Like really pissed, but I’d been looking for an excuse to move out with Sarah - we’d figured that when you and Jess found your apartment…”

“You knew?” Nick knew he was completely derailing Winston. 

“Of course we knew! You’d been floating around on cloud nine for months - and when you guys didn’t announce a wedding or anything, Schmidt and I put two and two together and bam we knew. We were going to act all surprised when you told us though.”

“Jess did tell me to tone down being so excited.”

“Whatever…look, we never mentioned it after Jess left because we didn’t want to hurt you more - but yeah, we knew. Anyho…”

Winston was suddenly cut off again by the arrival of their drinks. Andrew gave Nick a small nod and disappeared again. Winston was about to start talking again, but Nick pushed the drink towards him - “Try it.” He wanted to watch…

(Maybe he should talk to someone about how excited he got watching people drink his cocktails.”

Watching Winston’s face as he tasted a Jess for the first time was, as expected, awesome. Nick knew exactly when each element of the cocktail hit Winston for the first time - when he tasted that the intensity of the grin, when he got to the incredibly sour-sweet taste of the fresh grapefruit and when the smooth, but powerful aftertaste brought on by the infused simple syrup hit the palate. For a moment, after that first taste, Winston fell silent - his eyes blown slightly at the sensation and then, “Holy crap! Nick, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Shit! Yes! It’s like a million little baby gin soaked grapefruits are having a dance party in my mouth and everyone’s invited…shit! This is so good!”

Nick blushed slightly and nodded. “Thanks…I owe a lot to that drink.”

“Is this the one that won an award?”

“Yeah…you know about that?”

“I keep track.”

“You keep tabs on me?”

“Dude, I hate that we’re not friends - okay - I hate it. I want to know about your life…and reading stuff about you online, its like the only way I get to be part of your life. Which, by the way, is a pretty awesome life!”

“It is awesome. I’m happy…well, I am now that Jess is back. Before, I was…kind of a workaholic asshole.”

“So, you became Schmidt?”

“Did Jess tell you to ask that?”

“She might have…”

“Fuck off.”

“I am so sorry man.” Nick knew Winston wasn’t talking about the Schmidt remark.

“Winston…I wish I could say that you ending our friendship was understandable or okay or whatever, but it wasn’t - it hurt like a son of a bitch. You’re my best friend - we’ve known each other since we were kids…and if you wanted to be a part of my life, why not phone me or even just show up here one night?”

“I was kinda freaked out - scared, I guess. I figured that you’d see me and get pissed off that I just abandoned you in the hospital like that and kick my ass to the curb.”

“That’s fucking stupid! You know I wouldn’t do that…”

“That’s what Sarah keeps saying.”

“…I would have gotten my tough as nails lesbian bar manager to do it for me.” Nick doesn’t bother disguising the smile in his voice.

Winston paused, taking a moment to dissect what Nick’s just said, then he starts laughing…actually laughing. It takes Nick a second to join, but soon they’re doubled over in laughter - over nothing. Nothing, except the fact that two best friends haven’t been able to share a moment of laughter in over three years. And both are incredibly sick of not being able to do exactly what they’re doing now. Both are so tired of not having the other in their lives that it just makes sense to suddenly laugh and enjoy this moment, even if they still have so much more to say to each other. 

Slowly, Nick’s laughter starts to taper out, he reaches up and wipes his eyes - his forearm muscles bulging slightly, which draws Winston’s attention. “Man, you got kind of ripped.”

Nick shrugs again. Briefly wondering whether people ever actually talked like that, or if this was just one of those strange Winston mannerisms that he’d forgotten about…because outside of Muscle Beach or on TV, Nick was pretty sure he’d never actually heard the word ‘ripped’ be used before.

But before Nick could ask Winston, the man continued “No, really man, for a guy who used to hate every single form of exercise - including walking - you look great.”

Smiling as a wave of vanity and pride moved through his body, Nick started telling him about how the scare in the hospital and the panic attacks kind of kicked his ass into gear with actually taking care of himself. How he just sort of fell into looking after his body and then deciding that he wanted to make sure that the image he was presenting the world as a bar owner matched the actual bar - sexy and attractive. Winston, for his part, nodded a lot and looked sympathetic when Nick talked about the hospital and feeling so awful all the time he was there, especially when he’s been summarily dumped by his friends. 

It’s at that last remark that Winston pales. Because he knows that Nick is still hurting - that the actions of his friends three years ago, really did some damage to Nick, and that the man sitting at this table is a direct result of those actions. 

“Nick…I know that it doesn’t make much sense - why I left too - but I had to do it. I had to get a break, it was just so crazy. I felt like our whole loft was cloaked in your grief. It was hard to handle already, and then when I got that crazy call from Schmidt - it just got to be too much. I just didn’t want to deal with it all anymore - I didn’t want to deal with Schmidt and his pain over what you and Cece were doing, and I didn’t want to have to live with the immense grief you were dealing with…fuck, that makes me sound like quite literally the worst human being…”

“Yeah, but I get it, I really do. Man, what Cece and I did - it was just fucking wrong. I’ve had to live with it for three years - three fucking years man - and I’ve tried to figure it out, rationalize it or whatever and I couldn’t. I think I went insane, Winston, I actually think I was insane for a while there.”

“Hey - you were hurting.”

“I should have stopped right away. But, doing it - being with Cece - I made not having Jess there hurt a little less. That’s the only way I can explain it!”

“But you and Jess - you guys worked through it?”

“Yeah. Fuck, man, when I told her, I was sure that she was going to get on the first plane back to Portland - it was nasty.”

“But you know Jess…”

“She slapped me.”

“Seriously? Like an actual slap?”

“Yeah. Really hard too." 

“I always knew she had it in her for when you really fucked up.”

“Thanks…for that.”

“Anytime, dude. But you guys…worked it out?”

“Yeah, we both want to be together, especially after everything - being apart for so long, the…uh…miscarriage…”

“Dude…aw fuck…I’m gonna try not to do the waterworks…I’m really sorry man.  


“Winston…I…aw, shit, you know what - yeah, it fucking sucks. I’m so glad that I have her back, but I still wish I had been there - to help her through that and to just have known.” Nick hasn’t actually talked about how he feels about her miscarriage much…except once or twice with Dave. But the idea of that loss, it still feels raw and strange. He hates the idea that she she went through it alone. 

Winston’s voice brings him back - “Hey - Jess told me the other day that she tried to think about it as the two of you not having been ready, But that you will be and…shit.”

“Descriptive.”

“Shut up - we’re guys, we’re not supposed to be good at this. I sometimes the only way I can talk to Sarah about my feelings is through Ferguson, cause I’m scared to tell Sarah.”

“That’s fucked up - you really need to stop that.” Nick smiles as he takes a drink. 

“It works.”

“It’s weird. And lately, I’ve done so much talking about how I feel…there are times when I can’t stop. It’s like I want to now - I want to tell her things.”

“Good. I’m happy that you…” Winston barely starts talking when the thing that Nick’s been fighting to keep inside since he saw his friend tonight suddenly pops out of his mouth - its the thing he’s been fighting against since that day in the hospital three years ago. 

“How could you just throw away our friendship?” Nick never really intended to ask that question - at least not tonight. He’d kind of planned on keeping it inside - nicely buried under some layers of resentment - until he just couldn’t handle it anymore, which of course kind of depended on whether he actually saw Winston again after tonight. But now its out there - hanging like a foul odour between them. 

Winston blinks, his face set in a deep frown. For Nick, who was once only familiar with the intensely funny, goofy and at times blissfully naive Winston, this man - with his deep frown lines and thoughtful expressions - is nearly a stranger. But, then again, Nick is pretty sure he’s a stranger to Winston right now too. But there’s something about Winston’s expression - it almost harkens back to evenings in the loft, when they’d talk about sports or their love lives or about nothing at all. Nick wants to grab Winston and pull him back to those nights - they felt so innocent, so ideal. Those were nights that weren’t marked by unhappy relationships, or miscarriages, or broken friendships…those were nights filled with games of True American, basketball games on the PVR or falling asleep watching some old movie none of them could remember even starting to watch. 

Winston’s head slowly shakes - he’s settled on something, some explanation or attempt to clarify what Nick has always felt was a type of abandonment. “I didn’t mean for it to last like this.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I figured that we’d go our separate ways for a while, but after a few months one of us would call and we’d go have a drink and yell about how pissed at each other we were.”

“Well, that didn’t happen.”

“No. I know - Nick, and at first it was because I was still so mad at you - I mean, Schmidt disappeared almost right away…we had a family and it was broken. And I blamed you. So, at first I didn’t call or check in on you because I really did want a break and after a while it just got easier to not be in touch. So I just…I just didn’t call. And even after I finally calmed down, I just couldn’t find a reason to pick up the phone. It was easier to not get in touch than to even try. And one day, I realized that I didn’t know what I would say…”

“It wouldn’t have taken much, man. I really just missed my friend.”

“Yeah - but I let the whole thing grow in my head. It got out of control - I was so certain that you hated me and would never want to see me again.”

“Okay, so how’d you end up here?”

“Jess…she told me you missed me. And it felt so good to hear that! I talked her into setting this up.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

“Nick…what do you want?” Winston looks intense again. 

Nick glanced down at his half finished drink - the huge ice cube had melted slightly, dramatically diluting the bourbon, which he really didn’t want. But, Winston’s question…he didn’t know how to answer it. He had no idea what he wanted…well, except for one thing. He was certain about one thing that he did want. 

He looked back up at Winston and smiled. “I want to order a few more drinks and hear about my best friend’s wedding…even if I’m not…”

Winston pulled a cream coloured envelope out of his pocket. It was slightly creased and three of the four edges were bent in odd shapes. The whole package looked as though it had been worried over excessively. But on the front of the envelope - in a cursive feminine script - was his name. He took it, giving Winston a questioning look.

“I don’t know where you live now - and I’m not allowed to look up addresses for personal business in the LAPD databases anymore…”

“Was that a problem?”

“We needed addresses for the invitations…they stopped me before I got to M. But yeah…I want you there.”

Nick slipped his finger into the flap of the envelope and worked it open. The invitation was heavy card stock - the same colour as the envelope - with pure black ink marking the paper. Nick read the words a few times - he could feel a smile falling into place on his face. He lifted his hand, waving Andrew over again, ordering them both more drinks. 

The invitation fell heavily onto the table as Nick started to ask Winston about the LAPD and wedding plans and how Sarah was. As they talked, for hours, Nick’s finger traced the words on the invitation - well, actually the RSVP card - where the printer had stencilled Nick’s name, but what Nick’s finger kept coming back to was the blocky masculine script - easily recognizable to anyone at the LAPD - that had written in Jessica Day next to his name. 

“Okay, so tell me more about how you accidentally discharged your taser gun on yourself?”

—/—

“Shit, man, I think that Uber driver was really worried that you were going to throw up all over his car!” 

Winston’s voice was obnoxiously loud in the tiny confined space of the elevator, so much so that Nick had to squeeze his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the barrage of sound that was threatening to shatter the delicate grip he had on the non-headache he was sporting. Unfortunately, Winston didn’t really realize the harmful effect he was having on Nick’s brain at the moment. Nick was suffering from something he’d not experienced in a while - over drinking. Yeah, there was no getting away from it now - Nick Miller was drunk. 

Very very drunk. 

But, he was pretty proud to say, that he had certainly _not_ almost thrown up in am Uber. No, he’d kept it together…unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. He really needed to get inside his condo. 

For some brilliant reason, after leaving The BarRail, Nick had invited Winston to back to see the condo - he’d talked up the view so much that Winston really had to see it for himself before going home. Which reminded Nick, he had no idea how exactly Winston was getting home? Shit…they really hadn’t thought that through. Maybe he should called Jess or Sarah? 

Although, there was also the problem of Jess’ lack of communication all night. So he had no idea what had happened with Dave. Fuck…he was a horrible boyfriend! He hadn’t even called to check in with her! Fuck! 

He didn’t want her to get mad at him!

Okay…new plan - get inside, throw up, call Jess and then figure out how Winston is getting home. Also…water. 

“Nick!” Winston suddenly grabs Nick’s shoulder and spins him around slightly, which completely knocks his equilibrium off balance and almost send Nick and Winston crashing to the ground in the middle of the hallway. 

Nick stumbles slightly, hanging off of Winston, mumbling his discomfort at the sudden movement they’re being subjected to - which has certainly started a rather violent chain reaction in Nick’s stomach. “Wha…what!?”

“It’s not going to be as easy with him as it was with me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about Winston - and keep your voice down, my neighbours man!”

“Oh shit…sorry, man.”

“’s fine…but what are you talking about?”

“With Schmidt! It won’t be as easy! He’s going to be super angry at you still…me, I always wanted my man Nicky M back…but Schimdty, he’s not gonna be open minded - if you catch my drift - to the awesomeness that is the new and improved Nick. You gotta work some major charm! Gotta be like Mary Poppins or some other white shit…”

“Shut up Winston. And yeah, I know! I’m expecting a battle, not the red carpet. But Jess promised she come with me, so…”

“I’ll come too!”

“What?”

“It’ll be like old times - the Nick and Winston tag team. We’ll knock em down with our bro power!” Winston tired to do a high five, instead went headfirst into Nick’s door. Nick just sighed and pulled out his key.He really wanted to vomit now. 

“This is me…come on in.” Nick opened the door and was immediately met with a soft meowing noise at his feet. He looked down to find Mary-bell sitting demurely in the entranceway, watching him. His face contorted in confusion as he stared at the small cat. “What are you doing here?” The cat just cocked her head to the side. 

It’s Winston’s voice that alerts him to another presence in the room. “Jessica!!” Winston pushes past Nick, rushing to gather Jess into his arms. Nick holds out his hand, letting Mary-bell crawl up onto his sleeve so he can put her onto his shoulder. As he straightens up, he sees Jess watching him from over Winston’s shoulder, she looked tired. 

“Hey.” He says softly. 

She pushes away from Winston and moves over to him. “You’re drunk.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be…I’m glad.”

“No. I’m drunk and a mess…bad boyfriend.” He very aware of how much he’s slurring. 

“It’s okay - you’re not a bad boyfriend. You and Winston deserved this. I’m glad you’re home though.” 

Nick beams - his brain might be slightly pickled, but he definitely picked up on the fact that she called his place home. “Seriously, you’re the best girlfriend. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He leans down to kiss her, and watches with amusement as her face scrunches up at the smell of bourbon. He ignores her disgust and kisses her anyway - relishing that he can. She kisses back with just as much intensity. As they pull away slowly, a smile resting on his lips, he glances around his home - there are two glasses, his bottle of William Chase gin, and a bunch of take out containers on the coffee table - he’s pretty sure he’s never had Chinese take out in his house before. He looks at Jess, a question written on his face. Fuck,honestly, he’s shocked he can even form words much less give veiled and subtle looks. 

“Dude…” Winston slurs, “that cat fucking loves your shoulder.” He points to where Mary-belle is sitting, happily on Nick’s right shoulder. Nick just nods and reaches up to scratch the cat’s chin. 

“Jess…where’s Dave?”  

Then, in answer to his own question, he sees the ghostly glow of a cigarette on the tiny balcony. Through the shadowy glass, he can make out the larger man’s shape as he puffs, rather violently, at the cigarette in his hand. The way Dave is standing, and the jerky and awkward way he’s smoking tells Nick that he’s not used to that particular action anymore, and that he’s incredibly angry. 

Nick looks over at Jess. “Chris didn’t come huh?”

“No. They fought before Dave left and on the phone here - I didn’t know where else to bring him. I’m sorry.”

“Its okay - but smoking on my balcony, really?”

“I bought him an ashtray.”

Nick scowled as Winston whispered - a bit too loudly - “Who is that? And why does he look so angry!?”

Jess took Winston’s arm and started leading him towards the kitchen - clearly intending to get him a glass of water - while explaining that Dave was her best friend from Portland and why the guy was on Nick’s balcony. Meanwhile, Nick carefully plucked Mary-belle off of his shoulder and placed her carefully on the couch. She gave a small squeak of disapproval. 

“Oh hush, I’ll let you sleep on my chest tonight.” He muttered to the cat, who sniffed approvingly and curled up into a ball. Nick opened the door the balcony and stepped outside. 

The balcony was incredibly tiny - just enough room for a small table and two chairs, which Nick had never actually used until Jess came back, and a small collection of mostly dead plants. The far edge of the balcony, which the same direction as the living room windows, was where Dave was leaning against the railing, staring out at the view below. Above him hung a deep cloud of cigarette smoke. He had dragged one of Nick’s chairs next to him to rest the ashtray on - an ancient glass thing that Nick had never seen before. He made a mental note to ask Jess about it. 

“Hey Dave. You okay out here?”

Silence greeted him. Nick sighed - he moved slightly closer to the other man. The stench of cigarette smoke, combined with the immense amount of bourbon he’d consumed, caused another wave of nausea to crash over him. But he closed his eyes and suppressed it - he forced himself to stay steady and not vomit or pass out. After a long moment, he opened his eyes again and stepped in next to Dave at the railing. “I never spend time out here - I should.”

Dave puffed on his cigarette.

Nick nodded. “You should come inside, you can meet my friend Winston - he’s getting the 4-1-1 on you right now from Jess. He’s a sweet guy.”

There was the smallest amount of movement, a slight head turn. It might be night, but there’s enough light for Nick to see how wet Dave’s face is…he’s clearly been crying for some time. Instantly, Nick feels bad. “Shit…I’m sorry, Dave.” And he means it. Dave’s perhaps the only person who stood behind him and Jess…he’s the only one who worked to make sure they got - and stayed - together. And he was a friend - more a Jess friend than anything, but still a friend. 

Dave’s voice is hard and cracked with emotion. “He’s actually going to do it. He’s actually going to divorce me because I finally stood up for myself and said I needed to leave Portland. He’s actually going to leave me for some shitty ass, hipster infested artsy make your own fucking yogurt town. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Dave, I’m…”

“You’re sorry. Yeah, I know. So is everyone else. My dad is sorry. My co-workers are sorry. My therapist is sorry. Jess is sorry. You’re sorry. But that doesn’t help me save my marriage…”

“What will?”

“Not moving. And I’m not going to do that…Nick, I can feel my depression getting worse, it has been for three years since I moved to Portland - I miss cities and I miss actually practicing medicine and I miss real theatre - not one man shows about veganism. But now I have to miss him…and I don’t want to.”

Behind them, the balcony door opens again and Jess steps out. She slips next to Dave - on the other side from Nick - and loops her arm around Dave’s waist. Dave’s head suddenly seems to get a lot heavier and it hangs down - his chin nearly touching his chest. And Nick finds himself looping his arm around Dave’s waist as well, gripping onto Jess’ elbow, so they become one long chain - protecting their friend. 

“Winston okay?” Nick nearly whispers.

“He’s calling Sarah. Are you okay?”

“Yeah - drunk, but I’m feeling okay.”

“Okay. Dave…?” She twists her head to address the larger man. “…do you want to go inside now, I can set up Nick’s futon for you.”

“Yeah. I guess. I’m tired of smoking. Would it be okay if I had a shower?”

“Yeah!” Nick steps back, giving Dave enough room to turn around. He shuffles, like a beaten man, towards the door - his heartbreak is written on every square inch of exposed skin. 

As Nick and Jess watch Dave walk back inside the condo, nodding pleasantly at Winston and then disappearing down the hallway, Nick suddenly realizes that he doesn’t just have a battle ahead of him - he has a war. He might have gotten back Winston tonight - the first actual fight in this war - but the real race is still ahead of him. Getting Schmidt back will be a full scale war…but even worst will be the war that he and Jess are going to have to wage to save Dave from himself. 

But, as Jess turns to him and tucks her face against his chest and as he looks upto see Winston, holding up Mary-belle, and pressing their faces against the glass of the door - peering out at them - Nick realizes that he might just have enough ammunition to actually win this war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, just an announcement - The Art of the Cocktail will be taking a 2 week hiatus as I finished the last chapter(s) of the story - there should be 2 more and an epilogue. But I want to give the story the treatment it deserves and to make sure it ends exactly how I have envisioned it and I think I need to just spend the next two weeks writing. So, the next time an update will appear will be the week of August 25th. But I promise you, the wait will be totally worth it. 
> 
> The New Old Fashioned (http://www.townandcountrymag.com/leisure/drinks/g1178/old-fashioned-variation-cocktail-recipes/?slide=16)
> 
> Jess and Nick have coffee here - which is the best coffee place in LA: http://www.intelligentsiacoffee.com/location/silver-lake-coffeebar


	16. Chapter 15 - Grand Fashion

Nick was tired. No, fuck that, he wasn’t just tired - he was exhausted. This whole endeavour was just…exhausting. All he really wanted to do was get up from this table, walk back outside into the blazing Sacramento sunshine and go back to the hotel, so he could sleep until this ridiculous weekend was over. 

In fact, he’s quite certain that there has never been something that he’s wanted to do quite as badly as that - he wanted nothing to do with what was about to happen this afternoon. Shit. He really should never have agreed to this. He should never have said yes to this plan! It’s a stupid plan. A dangerous plan! It’s a plan that’s just going to hurt him, because no matter what he (or anyone else) said, all this was doing was dangling his lost friendships in his face like a carrot - threatening to take them away again.  

And he was pretty sure at some point someone was going to yank the carrot away, because there was no way his good luck could hold out. 

And yeah, sure, he reconnected with Winston - even if that connection still felt a tad tenuous, but this was different. This was Schmidt - the guy he had betrayed and hurt. So, it felt like convincing Schmidt to give him another chance as a friend would be nothing short of a miracle, and Nick was pretty sure that he’d achieved his quota of miracles over the past few months. This was pushing it - this was scraping the bottom of the barrel for miracles. 

There was no way it was happening. 

Nick sighed and glanced towards the bar’s door - waiting for it to swing open. So far nothing had happened, but every time there was even the slightest hint of movement near the door, Nick would jump in his seat. It was starting to feel like by the time something actually happened, his nerves would be so completely shot that he would barely react to his friend’s (re)appearance. 

It had been three hours since Jess had texted him. He’d been sitting in The Red Rabbit Bar and Kitchen for nearly three hours now waiting for Jess and Schmidt to show up. But he couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d even be able to make this meeting happen? What, exactly, would she say to him that would even make him think about coming to see Nick? Jess had so little to do with what had happened between Nick and Schmidt - so how exactly was she going to broker a truce between the two men? 

Jess might be amazing…but even she wasn’t a UN peacekeeper, even with her secret weapon.

Nick groaned as he took another sip of his drink - what the bar called an Ex-Wife, some kind of scotch and bitter liqueur cocktail that he’d been mentally reworking for the last forty minutes. The bar and drink was quite pleasant, but they were easily overshadowed by his exhaustion and nervousness. He suddenly craved the safety of his own bar - that solid chunk of wood that had protected him from so many frustrations and problems for the past three years. This was perhaps the longest that he’d ever been away from The BarRail - almost seven days now. He knew the place was in good hands and that if there was a problem, Charlie would call him right away. But, even so, he wasn’t used to being this far from his bar…it felt weird and disheartening. 

He poked idly at the plate of deep fried asparagus sitting in front of him - this place really needed to improve their bar snacks - and contemplated the last few weeks. 

His renewed friendship with Winston. 

His deepening connection with Jess.

Dave’s nearly emotional breakdown. 

All of those things had come to a head less than two weeks ago, when Jess had unveiled her grand plan - like the big reveal in an old fashioned heist movie - one last big push to fix all of their problems. And just like that, Nick’s safe little world was thrown in total upheaval, yet again. The plan was deceptively simple, and yet all Nick could think about was how stressed it had made him…and was making him. 

Her plan had four parts - fuck, she’d even laid it out like it was some kind of heist movie!

First, they (including Winston) would go to San Francisco. Second, they’d convince Dave to come with them - Jess thought it would be good for him to spend a bit of time in “the gay mecca”. Third, they’d talk to Cece - or at least try. And fourth, they’d pop over to Sacramento to try and talk to Schmidt. 

A four step plan. Simple. Easy. Fail-safe. 

But it just didn’t feel that way - it didn’t feel easy or safe. And, sure, so far it had worked out pretty well, but then again, a lot of the plan didn’t always feature Nick in a starring role - he was more like Jess’ sidekick. Until now. Now, Nick was smack dab right in the middle of the spotlight and he was expected to perform - perform a magic trick by trying to make the horrific things he did three years ago disappear. 

Yeah, fucking right. 

He shouldn’t have agreed to this - he should have at the very least asked someone to stay with him while he waited. He should have asked Dave to stay with him, rather than leaving the guy in San Francisco to rediscover a renaissance of his sluttier years in the Castro. But rather than come right out and say, ‘hey guys, I’m freaked out and don’t think I can handle this alone’, he’d just smiled and agreed that a weekend alone in San Francisco was the perfect thing for a almost divorced thirty-something gay man with a rather significant itch to scratch. 

Yeah. That was a smooth move guys. There was no way this was going to backfire…for either Nick or Dave. 

Nick grunted and he slammed back the last of his drink, he waved at the overly chipper waitress to bring him another. He probably should start thinking about cutting back on the booze - if he was going to be at all sober for what was coming his way - but he felt as though the booze was his suit of armour and would help protect him. Of course, he was pretty sure that if she arrived and saw him blitzed out of his mind, she’d probably strangle him. His getting drunk would certainly derail all the hard work she’d put into this - a thought that instantly made him feel bad. He reached for the sweating glass of water sitting next to his empty cocktail glass - draining it in one go. 

A conversation with Schmidt terrified him, but the idea that he might let Jess down…that was worse. 

The waitress appeared next to him, silently putting another Ex-Wife down in front of him, she pointed at the water glass, raising an eyebrow. He nodded. She disappeared for a second, coming back with a large water pitcher - refilling his glass. As she walked away, Nick pushed the cocktail away and picked up the water again. He’d get back to the cocktail - but for now, he had to dilute the strong buzz he was feeling. 

The last few days had left him feeling incredibly raw - and not just because of his constant state of anxiety over seeing Schmidt, but the whole endeavour of having to face his past again. Ever since Winston had walked back in his life, Nick had felt something stirring in him - it was as though having Jess and Winston back in his life was bringing the person he used to be back out. Maybe it was suddenly not being so lonely or maybe it was the familiarity of having them around, but he was finding himself feeling more like himself. And, on top of that, he was suddenly having to face his past - having to face what he did three years ago. 

He’d had to face Cece. 

Which he’d done without question or reservation, because Jess needed him to. Because she wanted to try and reconnect with her friend and the easiest way to do that was by having Nick talk to her first. It just made sense…Cece would never want to talk to Jess unless she knew the truth of what had happened and the only person that could really explain it to her was Nick. So, Nick had squashed his fear, put on a brave face and walked into Cece’s office building ready to convince Cece to see Jess. 

Exactly as Jess was doing with Schmit right now. 

Nick stared down at the table, momentarily lost in thought, his mind turned back to watching a tall, mocha-skinned woman walk towards him - a confused and curious look on her face. As he slipped deeper into that memory, the bar’s door opened… 

*************

 * **Three Days Ago***

The building’s lobby was stark white - intensely so. In fact, the sun was hitting the front windows in such a way that the entire lobby seemed to be on fire - every surface burning with a dazzling white light that threatened to rob Nick of his eyesight if he dared look at anything for too long. The lobby was long and rectangular, dominated by a huge security desk facing the front entrance, where two rather bored looking security guards watched every person walking into the building with a look of judgemental disdain. Flanking the security desk were two long hallways of elevators - each side servicing different sections of the 50 floor building. 

As Nick pushed his way through the revolving doors, shielding his eyes from the glare coming off the security desk, he made straight for the bank of elevators that would deliver him to the fortieth floor, where he hoped to find Cece. He gave the security guards a curt nod, which was returned along with a look of such boredom that Nick was nearly struck down by it. There was an elevator waiting for him as soon as he walked down the small hallway - he stepped in and pressed the button. 

Nick had no idea exactly what he would be walking into and, despite some stern objections from Dave, neither he nor Jess had opted to warn Cece this was about to happen. There was no way to know what her reaction would be, so rather than risk having her completely run away and refuse to see him, Nick had decided to rely on the element of surprise. It was a dick move, but right now it felt like it was the only move he and Jess had to play. Because at least he had the sympathetic factor going for him - Cece might still feel guilty over what they’d done - Jess was still the bitch who had dropped her best friend like yesterday’s stale pancakes. 

Nick sucked a small breath in and waited for the doors to open. 

The elevator opened onto a lobby that was bathed in a soft peachy light - which was probably the result of some kind light filter or something. The room was done up in soft pale wood features and dull white furniture - giving the room a very modern, but rustic, feel. Directly outside the elevators was a long oak reception desk, where a incredibly apathetic looking young woman sat. Directly above her was a stylized sign informing visitors that they had arrived at VIVA Style - which, Nick remembered from their website, promised to “shape or reshape their clients into successful and stylish world wanderers.” 

(A concept so disturbingly hipster and bizarre that Dave and Nick had spent a good hour and a half laughing at it.) 

Nick put on his best ‘I’m your best friend’ smile - honed from years of working as a bartender - and walked up to the receptionist. Before she had even opened her mouth, Nick had her pegged as an intern who was merely counting down the minutes until she could leave to go find a beach or patio with her friends. She barely glanced at him as he walked up - he noticed that a copy of Vogue was spread out in front of her.

“Welcome to VIVA Style. How can I help you?” The girl flipped over another page in her magazine. 

“I’m hoping to see Cece Par.”

“Who can I say is here?”

“Tell her it’s Nick.”

“Last name?”

“She’ll know who I am.”

‘Whatever…” The girl rolled her eyes and tapped a few buttons a phone panel. Seconds later, “Hi, Ms. Par. I have someone at the front for you.”

[…]

“He says his name is Nick and you’d know who he is.”

[…]

“Okay. Sure.” The girl tapped another button, ending the call, and turned to Nick. “She’ll be right out. You can wait over there if you like.”  She pointed to a row of off-white leather couches and then dismissed him by going back to her magazine with a deep sigh. 

Nick shrugged and walked towards the couches - suddenly feeling an intense build up of very nervous energy. It was all coming to a head now - Jess’ return, their reconciliation, having Winston back in his life - what was about to happen was the first major step in moving forward from all that. If he could get Cece and Jess to talk…they’d be one step closer in getting their family back together. But it felt like a lot was riding on him. And he was terrified…

“Holy fucking shit!” A very familiar voice sounded from behind him. 

Nick spun around - a smile growing on his face. Standing just next to to the reception desk was Cece - she was wearing a crew-neck sleeveless black dress that reached down to just about her mid calves and was silk screened with images of multicoloured butterflies on the bodice, waist and down near the hem of the dress. She wore a pair of high-heeled sandals on her feet, showing off her toe nails which were painted a dazzling bright purple - perhaps to match one of the butterflies. Her face was still flawless and radiant, the same it had ever been - currently it was adorned by the smallest touches of makeup. Her dark brown hair, however, had chanced - it was even longer now and had been pulled back into one long ponytail that reached down to almost her waist and had large streaks of blond running through it. 

She looked completely shocked to find him standing there, but the shock was tempered by the dazzling smile she’s also wearing. Her eyes moved appreciatively over his body - he damn well knows that his fitted maroon button up, with his sleeves rolled-up just right to show off his muscular forearms, and his ever so tight dark wash jeans which showed off his thighs and ass perfectly, were sure to get her attention. He returned her smile.

“Hi Cece.”

“What on earth are you doing here…and what on earth are you doing looking like that?!”

“I wanted to see you and I started looking after myself - turns out, Coach and Winston were right, working out is a bit addictive.”

“Screw that - Nick, you look amazing! You’re the fucking made model version of Nick Miller!”

Nick felt himself blush suddenly - he forgot how intense Cece’s gaze could be. He felt himself shaken by the way she was almost evaluating his body. He shrugged - hoping to convey his disinterest in talking about him. “Thanks.”

From the light in her eyes, she clearly wasn’t about to give it up yet. “I remember a Nick Miller who once was forced to go jogging and lay down in the middle of the sidewalk after fifteen minutes.”

He nodded, smiling at the memory. “Sounds like the man I used to be.”

“Shit…I mean…wow…oh give me a hug.”  Cece swooped forward and pulled him into a massive hug. He let himself get pulled in - and for a moment he was thrown back three years ago when being enveloped by Cece’s scent and the texture of her skin was commonplace. All at once he was suddenly reminded quite firmly of what they had done together - of how they had acted and the dangerous game they’d played for weeks. Actions, which in many ways, had directly resulted in the situation they now found themselves in. 

Slowly, Cece pulled back. She shook her head slightly, still smiling. “So, you found me huh?”

“I did. Ms. fashion stylist consultant lady.”

“Well, I figured that I should put all that useless knowledge I have to some good use.”

“And San Francisco?” Nick knew he needed to get to the point - the longer they languished outside of the real reason he was here the harder it would be to actually tell her. But he had a feeling that she already suspected why he was here and just wanted to keep the topic of Jess at arms length - at least for a little longer. 

“I needed a change and this seemed like the right city to find it in. I like it here.”

Nick just nodded as a slight silence seemed to fall between them. Then, deciding to just bite the bullet, he asked, “Can we talk?”

Her eyes locked onto his - an unspoken question in her hazel eyes. She nodded and turned back toward the receptionist, motioning for him to follow her as she disappeared through a small concealed doorway. He hurried to keep up with her incredibly fast pace. She led him through a large work area, where dozens of other fashion consultants (he guessed) where sitting hunched over iPads and iMacs and iPhones, gazing reverently at fashion magazines, blogs and websites…he saw more than one of them watching videos on YouTube. At the far end of the room were a row of small, glass encased offices - with windows that faced out onto the bay. It was into one of these that she led him. 

Her glass desk faced out towards the workroom. Behind the desk was a large, white leather desk chair - which oddly resembled the kind of large lounge chair you would normally find in a cigar club rather than an actual office. Cece walked around the desk and sank into the chair, swivelling it so she could half look at him and half out the window towards the water. She put her feet up on a small ottoman sitting against the wall. The office has few personal accents - a few photos, including one of Cece and a shorter bearded man at the Golden Gate Bridge, they were hugging rather affectionately. The only other pieces of furniture was a tall bookcase and a white wooden file cabinet.

Nick sat down in one of the two guest chairs. “Nice office.”

“Thanks. Last year, I was one of those worker bees out there - then I landed a rather big client and suddenly found myself in one of these offices.” She smirked.

“Congrats.” Nick shrugged. He wasn’t sure whether he should just jump right into it or ease them into what he needed to tell her. He cleared his throat and wiped his hand on his jeans. He started to piece together the words to tell her about Jess when she she interrupted his thoughts. 

“I keep planning on visiting your bar, you know.”

Glancing at her, he’s sure his face registered the surprise he feels. He certainly hadn’t figured that she would know anything about him or his bar, but he figured that he was pretty easy to track down online if someone really wanted to look him up. But the idea that she knew about the bar and actually wanted to visit it…a warm rush of pride filled him. He smiled, widely. “You have?”

“Of course! I read about it in some magazine from LA last year and then did a bunch of Googling - you made quite the name for yourself. The place looks great - from the photos I saw on line. So, I’ve been thinking about coming back to visit. But…uh…”

“You weren’t sure if I’d want to see you?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s…ridiculous. Of course I’d want to see you!” Although, he damn well knows that if she had just shown up at the bar, neither of them would have known what to do or how to handle that situation. They both damn well know why they’re talking right now - that there’s only one reason either of them would want to even be in the same room as the other. Without the presence of Jess hanging over them, they’d probably so much as forget the other existed. In part because there was nothing linking them together - except embarrassment over their sexual antics together…but it was obvious that neither of them wanted to revisit that right now.

Of course, that didn’t mean they had to be totally honest with each other. 

Cece nods. Nick’s not sure if she’s acknowledging the way they’re lying to one another or if its in response to his assurances that he’d want to see her. She glances up, past him and looks out onto rows of desks, suddenly lost in thought. He watches her quietly for a moment - wondering where her mind had wandered off to. He assumes she’s trying not to think about the implications of his arrival here…trying not to think about what it could possibly mean for him to walk back into her life after three years. 

When her gaze eventually returns to his - he knows that the time’s come for them to actually get to the heart of the matter. The amusement of seeing him again after three years has worn off and she wants to get on with it. She watched him silently, waiting for him to say it first…so he does. 

“Jess is back, Cece.”

She nods again and then turns to look out the window towards the Bay. He remembers how hard it was to hear those words when Dave uttered them that day in the bar - how it had almost felt like his world was suddenly turned upside down. He wondered if she was feeling something similar to what he had felt in that moment…the overwhelming rush of emotions and bewilderment that had nearly crushed him that day. 

He also knew that Cece is a heck of a lot stronger than he is, and while he had decided to run and hide after hearing Jess was back, Cece wouldn’t do that. No, she’d face this head on. 

“You’ve seen her?” Her voice is even - almost emotionless.

“Yeah.”  Nick fights to keep a small smile from forming on his face as he utters what has to be the understatement of the century. 

“And?” Cece hasn’t turned away from the window, but he can tell by the tenor of her voice that she’s angry. He always figured that should they ever have this conversation that Cece would probably be more angry than anything else. He’d need to temper that if he was going to manage to make what needed to happen today a success. 

So, he shrugs. “And, what?”

She finally turns to look at him again - he can instantly see how angry she is. Her face is stony and cold. “What do you mean, and what? Nick…did she explain? What happened when you saw her…” Then, to his surprise, her voice dropped dramatically. “…Did you tell her? About us, I mean.”

“Cece - it’s complicated. But yeah, I know why. And I told her.”

She returns her gaze to the window - a frown drawing her face into an expression of deep unhappiness. Nick sits back again, leaving her to her silent contemplation. He looks around her office again - there’s mostly fashion books and magazines stacked on the bookcase tucked into the corner of the room. But littered among the books are a few photos - mostly of Cece with what he assumes are clients or co-workers or friends here in the city. But its the photo on her desk - of the bearded man - that keeps drawing his attention. The man in the photo is so obviously not Schmidt that it makes him feel rather bad for his (ex)friend. Schmidt had been so intensely in love with Cece that everyone had just assumed the two of them would end up together at some point. But clearly, what happened between Cece and Nick had just been too great a gulf for that relationship to actually bridge. 

And no matter what anyone ever said or did - no matter how hard Jess or Nick worked to make it up to Cece and Schmidt - nothing was ever going to repair that damage. Nick leans in a little, getting a closer look at the man in the photo - he’s about couple inches shorter than Cece, with strawberry blond hair. His beard is a darker shade of red - which, with the angle of the sun on his face, makes it look like its on fire. He looks slightly heavy set - not quite like Nick or Dave, but more like the guy could stand to give up a few meals at McDonalds or something. In the photo, they’re both dressed in hiking clothes - Cece in a bright yellow tank top and shorts, and him in a dark brown t-shirt and shorts. They look like they’re in some kind of wooded valley or something. It looks completely unrecognizable to Nick, who’s only really familiar with LA’s hiking areas. The man has one arm wrapped protectively around Cece and based on the euphoric look on her face, she’s perfectly happy to be there. 

“His name’s Austen.”

Nick’s head snaps up. Cece has turned back towards him and is watching him, her head cocked to one side, an amused expression on her face. She nods towards the picture. “My boyfriend - his name’s Austen. I figured since you were so interested in the photo you might want to know.”

“Oh. Right…I just noticed it. That’s all.”

“We’ve been together for about a year and a bit now. He’s a sweetheart. We just moved in together, actually.”

“Well, congrats. I, uh, guess you never reconnected with Schmidt?”

“No. We saw each other a few more times, but I stopped trying after I moved. I figured it was just easier and better that way.”

“He lives in Sacramento.”

“You stayed in touch?”

“No. But, uh, Jess found him.”

“Oh. Good for her.” Cece’s eyes stays locked on the photo of Austen, but the rest of her face drops into a deep frown. 

“Cece - I’m here to explain everything.”

“Why isn’t she?”

“Because we figured that if she showed up, you’d either try to attack her or get security to throw her out.”

“Hm.” Cece’s look doesn’t dissuade him from that opinion. “So, did she just visit LA to put you out of your misery or something?”

“She’s living in LA again.” He knows she’s working up to asking him about Jess’ disappearance…but he also suspects that she’s hinting around his relationship with Jess. He decides to just cut to the chase. “We’re seeing each other again.”

“Fuck you.” Cece snaps. Her eyes flashing dangerously with a new kind of intimidation behind them that suggests he’d be on the receiving end of a rather painful slap if they weren’t sitting so far away. “You took her back? Are you that pathetic that you’d take her back after she left you for some other guy. Jesus. After what she put you through…fuck you, Nick Miller.” There’s hurt and anger and something else he can’t quite define in her voice. 

“I think before you condemn either of us, you need to hear what I have to say.”

“I don’t know if I care enough, Nick.”

Nick closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath - this is the hard part, but it’ll be over in a microsecond. “Cece, Jess had a miscarriage.” 

Nick’s said it a million times now - to himself, to Jess, to Dave, to Winston, even to Charlie…but it takes watching Cece’s face register the words for him to really understand the emotional impact of them. Her mouth forms this ‘O’ shape and her eyes go wide - as though she’s not entirely sure how to really comprehend what he’s just said. She blinks a few times, then slowly shakes her head. He understands exactly what she’s thinking right now - she’s revisiting those months three years ago, revisiting Jess’ departure, the phone calls and Nick’s hurried trip to Portland. And, she’s revisiting what they did…the sex, the affair, the way they managed to give the fact that they were fucking some semblance of rationale. 

A rationale that just flew out the fucking window.

Like him, Cece now has to deal with the fact that there never was another man…there was just the immense loss of a baby.

He closes his eyes and collects himself. The office is perfectly silent, except for the dim murmur coming from the dozens of people outside the office, carrying on their day as though nothing strange or unreal has happened - as though their boss’ world isn’t being thrown into chaos. When he opens his eyes, she’s looking right at him - waiting. Expecting him to go on. Wanting to hear more. But he’s sure that she probably is dreading what’s coming now. 

He coughs - clearing his throat. When he starts, his voice sounds horse - like his throat is raw. “It happened a couple weeks after she left and she…well, she said that she fell into this awful depression. From the way she described what happened and how horrible she felt, it was really bad. That was why she pushed us away - that was why she decided to stay in Portland and not…not have be in our lives anymore. She…she said…” Nick sucks in a shaky breath. 

The miscarriage is something he’s talked about more than enough - Jess often actively encourages him to talk about it, mostly to make sure he’s okay with it, to make sure he wasn’t irreparably damaged by it. But her depression is a different story. Ever since she told him about it, he’s forced himself to not think about it. The very idea that she was that sad and that alone still has the potential to rip him in two. He hates the idea so much that his heart aches every time he even starts to consider it. And, because of that, he’s managed not to talk about it, except with Jess. And suddenly now, he has to talk about it - he has to try and make Cece understand exactly how bad Jess felt. He needs to make himself think about it. 

He’s aware that she’s moving, slipping out from behind the desk and moving to sit next to him. Cece slips her hand onto his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. (Huh…)

He opens his mouth - not entirely sure if he’s about to totally break down or if he’s actually going to start talking. He manages to surprise himself, rather than being bowed over by the messy tears, he actually starts telling her about the aftermath of Jess’ miscarriage. As he talks, he slowly starts to realize that he’s treating her not only as someone who needs to hear about this - which she does - but just as someone to confide in. 

Maybe its because of their past - the physical connection they stupidly had once established - or maybe its because the two of them had been so intimately affected by what happened to Jess, but regardless of what it is, Nick finds himself easily telling her about Jess’ depression. He’d made a promise to Jess before walking into the office building that he wouldn’t sugar-coat anything when talking to Cece, and he finds that there is no actual way to sugar-coat this. It’s a bleak and sad and unforgiving subject - one that hurts him as he talks. But there doesn’t seem to be anyway to stop from talking. 

He talks about Jess’ time in the hospital. He talks about Dave. He talks about that damn beer stein blanket she’d brought over to his condo last week. And he talks about how he really does hurt because of the miscarriage - how not knowing about that loss makes him want to be a father even more now. And he talks about how despite all of the hurt and distance, he really does love Jess - and how badly it seems that they need each other. He talks about Jess’ return to LA and the fuck up manner she went about reconnecting with him - all the starts and stops, the fuck ups and the ill-timed confessions. He talks about the way she slapped him and how hurt she looked when he told her about what he and Cece had done. And he talks about the night they’d made love.

He finds that once he starts talking, he can’t seem to stop. And the whole time he’s talking…her hand is heavy on his knee. 

But its weight keeps him grounded.

—/—

The office had grown still and quiet - the workers having long since packed up their iPads, shrugged on their expensive coats or sweaters and shuffled out into the breezy warmth of a San Francisco evening. Outside, the sky was slowly darkening - long shadows were forming on the streets and the waters below. People were starting to hurry home, eager to change out of their work clothes so they could start making their way to bars or restaurants…the city was coming alive with a kind of frenetic energy that seems to exist only in San Francisco. 

But inside Cece's office, two people sit silently in a darkening office, a tall bottle of Grey Goose vodka and two crystal tumblers sitting between then on the desk. They had been sitting there for hours now - occasionally getting strange looks from the other people in the office, usually looks filled with deep concern, especially given the obvious emotional state both Cece and Nick were in. But for the most part, they’d been left alone. Which was perfectly fine with both of them. 

At the moment, Cece was sitting back in the chair next to Nick - her head was thrown back and her eyes closed. It was obvious that she was starting to process everything that had she’d heard over the past few hours. Nick, meanwhile, was hunched forward on his chair, one of the crystal tumblers clutched tightly in his hand - he could definitely feel the delicious burn of the vodka warming him from the inside out. 

When Cece had disappeared about two hours earlier, only to return with an ice cold bottle of Grey Goose, he’d certainly been surprised - he’d always envisioned that only people in the movies kept booze in their offices. And he certainly hadn’t expected ice cold vodka. But he’d gratefully accepted the drink. It had been probably twenty or thirty minutes since either of them had last spoken - he felt drained, his voice slightly hoarse and he had a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. 

After he had finished speaking, they’d both just fallen silent. Cece had barely said a word the entire time, instead she’d listened or quietly cried while he talked. She had seemed perfectly content to just let him get it all out. But now, as they sat in silence, he glanced at her - it almost looked like she was sleeping. He couldn’t help the stray thought that she looked nearly angelic in the early evening light. But following closely on that thought was that as beautiful as Cece was, she paled in comparison to Jess. Nick could easily remember every curve and mark and dimple of Cece’s body - it was easy, considering how often they’d had sex three years ago. But now that he had Jess back - no other women’s body could possibly get the kind of reaction that Jess’ did. Nick reached into his pocket - fingering his phone - wondering if Jess was still sitting in their hotel room, waiting for his his call, or if she had dragged Dave out sightseeing or something. 

He really wanted to text her. 

He slowly started to ease the phone out of his pocket, careful not to disturb Cece. Just as he had finished wrestling the phone out of the confines of his pocket, Cece said softly, “If you’re trying to be all stealthy about getting your phone out, you’re failing. Just take it out of your damn pocket.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled. 

Cece sat up, sighing quietly. “So, what does it mean that she’s here in the city with you?”

“I don’t get you?”

“Does she want to see me?”

“Oh, yeah. She does.”

“And she’s not angry about…us?”

“Well, she forgave me - I don’t think she’s looking to scratch your eyes out or anything, but she’ll want to talk about it.” 

“Fuck, Nick…were we crazy back then?” Cece reached out and grabbed the bottle of vodka, pouring more into her glass. 

“When we decided that it was perfectly normal for you and I to start sleeping together?”

“Yeah. We never really talked about it.”

“We seriously fucked things up, that’s for sure.”

“I’ve thought about it so much, Nick. Trying to figure it out - I mean until then, I had no interest in you. Like none…ever…you were the least sexually attractive man I had ever met.”

“Uh…thanks for that.”

“You know what I mean! You were my best friend’s boyfriend…I was ostensibly in love with your best friend. There just wasn’t any interest there for me…until Jess left. Then something…changed. I don’t know if it was anger or being so fucking sad over everything or what, but I just decided that sleeping with you made sense. I just didn’t think - fuck - I never thought about how bad things could turn out because of it.”

Nick nodded and stared down at his dark phone. He’d always hated what he and Cece had done. Always. And what they had done was bound to make thing awkward and uncomfortable for a while - he knew Jess was committed to getting her friend - friends - back, but he had no idea if she understood how fucking awkward it was going to be. He and Cece had slept with each other - that would never change. They had altered the dynamic of their relationship, and in doing so they might have altered the dynamic of Jess and Cece’s friendship. But that didn’t mean they shouldn’t at least try to find that groove again. 

He owed it to Jess to try and make that happen.

He turned his head to look over at Cece - who was staring out the windows towards the Bay. “Cece?”

“Yeah, Nick?”

“Do you want to see her?”

Cece fell silent, taking a small sip of her drink. She nodded. “I do. I miss her.”

“Then, let’s fix that.”

Cece turned to him, her eyes probing and questioning. “You almost sound wise.”

Nick laughed and ducked his head. “I spent three years doing nothing but missing her - and having her back is so much better than that. Trust me. The work you’re going to have to do will be worth it if it means she’s a part of your life.”

“You know, I’m still mad at her, right?”

 “Yeah, I know.”

“She should have told me! She should have talked to me…I would have helped her. Fuck…that wasn’t fucking fair, cutting me out like that. Her best friend…” Her voice broke and gave way to a small sob. 

“Cece - it won’t help just telling me that.”

Cece nodded, returning to silently staring out the window - dabbing at her eyes with a tissue that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Nick turned back to his drink and his phone. He started to text Jess to let her know how things were going. He was trying to decide on whether exclamation marks were a good thing or if they’d sound false when Cece spoke again. She pointed at his phone. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“You sure?” He asked as he tapped the phone icon, ready to call Jess, but pauses momentarily - knowing that this is a rather huge decision for her to be making. He really doesn’t want her to rush this - of course, he also doesn’t want her to delay it too long…like he did.

Cece breathes in and out slowly, her eyes never leaving the crystal glass clutched in her hand. “Do it. Before I lose my nerve.”

Nick nods and taps on Jess’ name. His heart is already fluttering just from the idea of talking to her. The phone rang three times - he knows she’s sitting on the other end listening to the Fleetwood Mac song she set as his ringtone. Then, there’s a click and she’s there - her voice filling his head like the most melodic music in the world. He smiles brightly…he sees Cece roll her eyes.  

“Hi Nick.” He can tell she’s nervous by the ways her voice wavers - normally when she answers the phone, she’s chipper and upbeat, but now she sounds hesitant, worried and distracted. He imagines that ever since he left to go to Cece’s office, she’s been plagued with worry: over Cece’s reaction, whether she would get to see her best friend again, and possibly over the fact that Nick and Cece now had a sexual history together. 

He just smiles into the phone and answers in the most confident way possible, “Hey gorgeous.”

She sighs, but he can tell that the should of his voice has already relaxed her. “How’s it going?”

“Good…we’ve been talking. You guys doing okay?”

“Well, I think we made a huge mistake bringing Dave…” He can tell she’s trying to distract herself from asking the question that’s burning inside her, but it’s not working out well as her voice trails off mid-way through her sentence. She’s quiet for a moment before asking, “How is she?”

“She wants to see you.” He cuts right the chase - there’s no need to string Jess along or tell her much more than that. And from the sudden intake of breath he hears on the other end of the phone, he can tell she wasn’t expecting that. 

When she next speaks, her voice is tearful. “Really? Wow…I mean…wow.”

“Yeah, so I’m thinking a trade. I’ll take our depressed gay friend on a tour of some Castro bars…”

“We’re already doing that…” Its only now that he hears the din of a bar in the background, as though she’d stepped outside when he called, but has gone back into the bar or something.

“Things not going well?”  

“Oh no. Things are going a little better than expected…his confidence is definitely getting a boost. Although, we did have to have to have a crying break earlier.” She sighs deeply. Nick immediately knows that he’s probably in for a long night with Dave. Then, clearly wanting to get back to the possibility of seeing Cece, asks “So…what’s the plan?”

“Huh? Right…I’ll take over Dave duty and you and Cece can talk. But only if you’re comfortable with that.”

“I…I want that.” Her voice, although still shaky, sounds more sure of itself than a second before.

He looks over at Cece, giving her a nod. She offers him a small smile, then pulling out her phone starts typing at a rapid pace - probably sending Austen a message. He turns back to his phone call. 

“Great - do you want to meet us here, or we could come to the hotel…” He notices Cece holding up her finger, telling him to hold on. “Hold on, Jess…Cece is doing…something.” He hears Jess murmur an okay. 

 Cece glances up. “Where are you staying?”

“Uh, near Union Square.”

She nods again and turns back to her phone. Frowning at something at her phone, tapping furiously as though deeply unhappy with what she was reading. She glances at Nick once, considering something - or considering him - then shakes her head and goes back to her phone. 

“Nick?” Jess sounds worried about the silence that’s fallen over them on the phone. “What’s going on?”

“I think she’s figuring out where you’re going…”

Cece nods to herself, a smile blossoming on her face as she turns to him. “Tell her I’ll meet her at eight at The Library Bar at The Rex - it’s in Union Square.”

Nick giggles - a rather unmanly thing to do, really - but before he gets a chance to reply to Cece or tell Jess the plan, Jess cuts in, “What was that, Nick?”

He smiles, “Well, Cece would like to meet at eight at the bar in our hotel…”

Cece laughs and nods her head, as though that’s exactly what she was expecting. 

—/—

Nick leaned back against the small mountain of pillows he’d constructed for himself while flicking through channels on the TV, trying to find something to occupy himself. He had been back in the room for about an hour now - having taken a shower and was now lying on the bed, dressed only in a pair of old basketball shorts. Sighing as he settled on an old episode of Law & Order, he glanced at his phone - sitting silently next to him on the bed. It had been four hours since Jess had left to see Cece - and he knew that the bar closed at midnight, so technically she should be getting back any time now. 

He had not heard a word from her since she’d left - after they’d lain on the bed, cuddled up in each other’s arms, talking about what had happened that day. He’d tried his best to reassure her that she wasn’t walking into a snake pit or anything like that, but he could tell she was worried. And he didn’t blame her. But, clearly, since they had been gone for hours, things had gone well. He was sure he would have heard if they hadn’t. 

Nonetheless, Nick was getting restless - he kind of wanted to go to bed, he kind of wanted to have sex and he kind of wanted to not stress out over the fact that the day after tomorrow he and Jess were going to Sacramento to talk to Schmidt. Which was just…well, it was way too terrifying for him even to consider. He shuddered as he glanced at his phone again. Still no message.

He tried to focus on whatever was happening on the screen - but he hadn’t really been paying attention, so he had no idea who had gotten killed or what was happening at all. He wished he’d picked up something to eat when he and Dave had come back to the hotel. They’d gone out for dinner in the Mission and had wandered through the Castro, stopping at some dimly lit bar for a drink - Nick had noticed the number of glances Dave received from other guys in the bar and on the streets. It seemed that Dave was enjoying the idea that he had a new found sense of freedom and could actually, maybe, enjoy that attention. But at the same time, Nick could detect an apprehension - almost an unhappiness - in Dave over all this. Dave might like the attention, but he wasn’t entire sure he wanted it. 

Nick had been quick to remind him that he wasn’t divorced yet, nor had he any actual idea what was happening with Chris. Dave nodded and pulled out his e-cigarette. (He’d thankfully gone back to quitting shortly after arriving in LA). But Nick was fairly certain that Dave might have gone back out. He hoped Dave behaved, but then again it really wasn’t Nick’s job to babysit the guy…

Nick sighed and flopped his head back against the pillows. Where the hell was Jess!?

Just as he was contemplating taking a peek inside the minibar - despite his adamant refusal to ever use those awful money eating inventions - he heard the slide of a card in the door’s card reader and the hushed voice of his girlfriend. “Okay…we gotta be quiet. He might be asleep.”

Followed shortly, but the not so hushed voice of Cece: “Fuck that, we brought booze! He’s gotta wake up!” To which Jess started loudly shushing the other woman…even if he had been asleep, he sure as fuck would’ve woken up by now.

Nick rolled over onto his side, and watched as a rather drunk Jess and Cece attempted to tiptoe into the room. Jess was working on wrestling off her sandal when she glanced up, noticing that he was awake. Her mouth formed a silent, ‘Oh’ as she stared at him. 

“Hi Jess. Hi Cece.” He smiled at them. 

Jess smiled, drunkenly, back at him. “Hi…I drank a lot.”

“I can see that.” 

“She also cried a lot! But we rehydrated with vodka!” Cece yelled - a bit too loudly, given the horrified look on Jess’ face. Cece pushed forward to wave at Nick, her wave faltering in midair when she saw he was actually shirtless. Cece’s mouth opened and closed a few times. She glanced at Jess and whispered - in a very distinct non-whisper, “Shit…Nick got hot…like burly hot!”

Jess pushed her and then started giggling, which caused Cece to start giggling. 

Nick jumped off the bed, grabbing a t-shirt from his suitcase and pulling it on. He was momentarily struck by how similar this was to the night he and Winston were reunited - getting drunk and stumbling back to his condo. He moved towards the two giggling girls, smiling as Jess leaned into him and letting him help her with her other sandal. She straightened up and locked her arms around him, kissing him deeply. He could taste some pretty high end vodka on her lips and breath - he savoured the sensation. Pulling back, he glanced at Cece who was holding up a rather large bottle of vodka, grinning.

“What’re we drinking?” 

“I made Cece buy a bunch of mixers - I want a Nick Miller cocktail!” Jess’ voice slurred slightly - it was going to be one of those night’s, huh?

“I think she wants Nick Miller's cocktail, minus the tail…” Cece drawled as she sank down onto the bed. Jess yelled and threw her sandal at Cece. 

Nick picked up the plastic bag, rooting through it - trying to thing of a drink he could put together with what they’d brought him - which mostly looked like lemon juice, orange juice, Dr, Pepper (for some reason) and maraschino cherries…plus a very healthy assortment of chocolate bars. He shrugged, smiling, and dumped the bag onto the table underneath the TV. He picked up the ice bucket. As he moved towards the door so he could get some ice, he paused and grabbed his phone to text an invite to Dave - unless he was otherwise nakedly engaged elsewhere. He glanced over at the bed, Jess and Cece had already opened a bag of Twizzlers and were watching the TV intently. As he walked out of the room, he heard Cece say something about his butt…which prompted another eruption of giggles from Jess. 

He tapped send on the message to Dave as the door shut behind him - and suddenly, he felt this crazy rush of hope fill him. Because this felt like old times…and if Jess and Cece could make up, then dammit so could he and Schimdt.

He hurried down the hall - already planning an improvised poor-man’s Grand Fashion - as his phone dinged. 

********

***Now***

Nick should have been paying attention. He should have been watching the door - he’d spent most of his time in the bar being hyper-aware of the door…but then he played the distraction game. Letting his mind wander back to San Francisco - back to how happy Jess had been when she and Cece started making amends. How excited she’d been to have her best friend back. Jess had a kind of renewed energy the morning after having drinks with Cece - despite a horrific hangover. Having brunch with him, Cece, Dave and getting to meet Austen. How excited she’d been in having Cece as a tour guide for the rest of the weekend - they decided to postpone going to Sacramento for a few days, which he’d been more than fine with.

Nick had lost himself in those three days - watching his girlfriend run around San Francisco, watching Dave look a little happier…for reasons, however, that he wouldn’t share. So, Nick had let himself become distracted by the light in Jess’ eyes for the last three days. Her plan was working - she felt as though she was fixing the mistakes she’d caused. She was bringing her family back together. And that light - that excitement - was infectious. 

And now, he’s become distracted thinking about that light, which meant he’d had no time to prepare for what was approaching the table. All at once, he felt the sensation of someone looking at him, he glanced up - directly into the face of a man he’d once considered his best friend. A man who he had hurt and betrayed so badly three years ago. 

Schmidt was standing next to the table. He looked exactly as Nick remembered him - dressed in a dark, smartly cut suit (which Nick knew was a Tom Ford), his thick black hair styled in a gelled coif on the top of his head, and his smooth clean shaven face - the man abhorred facial hair - was distorted by a heavy frown.

A  very deep and unhappy frown. 

Nick glanced behind Schmidt - Jess and Cece were watching, both obviously worried. Nick started to stand up. He had no idea what kind of facial expression this called for - should he smile, should he return the man’s frown, should he go for a look of simple indifference? He went with a smile…cause, hey, why not. “Hey Schmidt.” (He was pleasantly surprised at how steady his voice was.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grand Fashion (http://www.drinksmixer.com/drink3398.html)
> 
> The bar Nick is waiting in is called The Red Rabbit Kitchen and Bar (https://theredrabbit.net/) I've never been, but it looks pretty good. 
> 
> The bar Jess and Cece go to is the Library Bar, located in The Hotel Rex in San Fran - one of my favorite places to stay (and drink) in the city. (http://www.jdvhotels.com/restaurants/hotel-rex/the-library-bar/) If you're ever in SF, go - you'll love it!


	17. Chapter 16 - The Last Word

Rewind. 

In the split second it takes Nick to stand up and reassemble his face into what - he hopes - is a reassuring smile, he finds that this idea is all he can think about. Weird…since, not once over the last few months - after Jess’ return - has he even bothered to think about it. Not one has he wished or wanted to just rewind it all. But now, when faced with his biggest failure as a friend, he can’t help but think about… 

Rewind.

And all at once, Nick considers what that word - the idea - might entail…the desire to change things. 

Let’s suppose you had the chance to rewind your life and change things, a kind of rewind and redo deal, what would you chose? Where would you rewind things to? Would you decide to go back and say goodbye to someone one last time? Would you decide to take the chance to tell someone you love them? Would you go back and accept the job that you always regretted turning down? Would you stop yourself from moving somewhere or doing something that you hated or regretted? Or would you just rewind and watch it all play out exactly the same - only tweaking little things here and there? 

Nick can’t help but think that it sounds like a pretty good deal. 

Rewind.

For many, being asked what they would change isn’t a hard question at all - everyone has that one moment that they regret and would want to change more than any other. Because everyone has that one moment - that one action they deeply regret, a moment they know if they could just change in some way then their lives would be light-years better than the lives they’re currently living. And, sometimes, late at night, you might find yourself lying awake - staring up at a dark ceiling - filled with regret and an intense longing to just hit the rewind button. You might find yourself thinking about that one relationship, job, apartment, missed phone call…any number of moments or seconds even, and all you feel is regret. All you want is to…

Rewind.

Unfortunately, unless you live in some kind of sci-fi universe, that option just doesn’t exist. Instead, we have to make do with what we’re given - we have to deal with the choices we’ve made, the events that have happened to us…we have to live with the regrets. There’s no other option, no matter how badly we want it. 

But sometimes…and it’s rare, that’s for sure…but sometimes, you do get the chance to rewind and change the past. You do get the opportunity to actually make things better. But for that to really happen, things need to perfectly align and you have to be willing to get yourself dirty and hurt in trying to fix whatever went wrong. There’s no Harry Potter time turner thing, instead you need to be willing to face exactly what went wrong and ask for forgiveness…you need to really work for the rewind to take effect. 

And Nick realizes that this moment - right here, right now - he has that chance to work, to get dirty, to ask for forgiveness. He thinks for a moment about what that could mean for him - and for Jess. Because she’s just as involved in this as he is. She’s getting the chance to rewind and redo just as much as he is. 

Nick Miller and Jessica Day - intimately linked, they have been from the moment they met. And even now, trying to fix their mistakes and bring their family back together, they’re linked. Both want to rewind and redo practically the same moment - for Jess, all she wants is to rewind to that moment three years ago when she could have made the choice to ask Nick to come to Portland, to tell him what was wrong, to have him there while her world was slowly consumed by the dark ball of grief she lived inside for years. And for Nick, he just wants to rewind to that moment when, standing in Portland airport, he could have chose to turn around, walk out of that airport and force her to see him - to get her to tell him about the miscarriage. If he had done that - if he had just manned up and been the boyfriend he knew he could be - then none of the hurt and sadness that had followed would have happened. 

Because, three years ago, when Nick Miller’s world came crashing down around him, he let the wreckage of his relationship with Jess damage the only other thing that tethered him to the world - his friendships. For Nick, losing Jess - and his inability to do more to fix that relationship - created a domino effect of regret. So much so that Nick actually forgot how to live - he forgot how to exist in a world that didn’t revolve around his bar. And in doing so, Nick became practically a shadow of whom he had been, because he forgot something very important…

He forgot that sometimes his friendships were a key element to his happiness. Without then, Nick disappeared from the world. He really should have thought about it in terms that he now understood - his life was like a perfect cocktail recipe. And the relationships he’d had were the key ingredients: One part Nick to one part Jess, with equal parts Winston, Schmidt and Cece. 

It sounds stupid…but if he really thought about it, it was actually quite true. 

And sure, without them, Nick had managed to become one of the most successful bar owners in LA, but that was all there had been for three years - the bar. In order for Nick to become the best possible version of himself - one that blended the talented mixologist and bar owner with the goofy, fun, sexy man he had once been - he would need his family back together. 

And here, in the Red Rabbit Kitchen and Bar in the heart of Sacramento, Nick is facing the last obstacle in his attempt at fixing the biggest regret of his life. But Nick has no idea how to actually do that, because faced with Schmidt’s unwavering and deeply unhappy glare, he felt completely inadequate. 

The size and weight of his regret had never been bigger or heavier. 

Nick gestures at the table he’d been sitting at for the last couple of hours. He smiles, hoping to instil some confidence in both himself and Schmidt. 

“You wanna sit? Uh, can I buy you a drink?”

Schmidt eyes him warily - it's obvious that he hasn’t even come close to deciding whether he should trust Nick or not. Schmidt glances down at the booth, his face seems set in a permanent frown. 

It feels as though they’ve been standing there for an ridiculous amount of time - but Schmidt’s silence seemed to stretch on for ages, it’s becoming clear that he either doesn’t want to say anything to Nick, or he’s unsure of what he should say. Nick glances over Schmidt’s shoulder, locking eyes with Jess - begging her to give him some idea of what he should say or do. She smiles and nods towards Schmidt, mouthing “Just say something.” Nick frowns and shuffles his feet slightly. He feels totally at a loss, but knows that Jess is right - he needs to say something. Anything.

The only way he’s going to be able to do this is by trying…and there’s no harm in trying, right? 

(Yeah, right…)

He leans forward a bit, closing the distance between himself and his (ex)best friend, he keeps his voice low and his tone soft. “Man, I just want to apologize and talk.” 

That seems to get a reaction. Schmidt’s eyes snap up to meet Nick’s, but missing is the caring and understanding that Nick really hoped to find - especially after Jess’ attempts to explain things. Instead, all Nick sees is anger - even more anger than he’d faced that day three years ago in his hospital room. Nick slowly realizes that, unexpectedly, Schmidt’s anger never actually lessened, it only intensified over the years. The sheer strength of Schmidt’s angry gaze almost causes Nick to take an involuntarily step backwards. 

“Schmidt?” Nick starts. He never really expected such severe a reaction - yeah, he knows that what he did was shitty - heck it was more than shitty, it was downright evil. But what Nick is seeing in Schmidt’s eyes at this moment somehow goes beyond what he did three years ago, because there’s hate in Schmidt’s eyes. Anger and hate. Schmidt actually hates Nick…that was not something he ever expected to encounter. The silent icy gaze he’s found himself under is filled with hate. And all of a sudden, Nick feels himself grow cold, suddenly quite terrified of what’s to come. 

Schmidt slowly shakes his head. And Nick knows the silence is about to be broken. In a big, bad way. Schmidt slowly brushes off his suit jacket as though just by being here, he’s dirtied himself. His face is hard…which is really the best way to describe it. Again, he just shakes his head. And then…

“You’re just as pathetic as you were three years ago.” He almost sounds bored as he says it. 

Nick is so flummoxed by what he’s hearing that he doesn’t quite know what to say next - he just blinks at Schmidt - eventually managing a mumbled “What?” 

Schmidt nods behind him - at Jess and Cece. “You’re not even man enough to just come talk to me, you have to send Jess to try and explain what you did. And Cece - way to rub it in my face, Nick. You couldn’t even be a big enough man to just walk into my office and say, ‘hey, I fucked up. I’m sorry.’ No…you had to let Jess try to butter me up. So, fuck you.”

“Schmidt…we just thought…” Nick stares, his eyes moving from Schmidt to Jess, with surely a shocked expression plastered on his face. Jess moves quickly, clearly wanting to be able to interject herself in case things go even worse, and stands next to Nick, who happily slips his hand into hers. He also notices that Cece, shaking her head, has left the group behind and moved to the bar.

Schmidt waves his hand in Nick’s face, as though completely disregarding Nick’s attempt at explaining. “I don’t care. I honestly don’t - we were friends for how long man, fifteen fucking years. And then you go and do that…I don’t care if you were grieving or depressed or just plain out of your fucking mind, friends don’t do that to each other. But you did. And now you want me to just be okay with everything? I left LA so I wouldn’t have to be reminded about what happened - I never wanted to see you again. End of story.” He gives a small shrug - practically emphasizing how inessential all this is to him. Nick blinks again. Out of all the possible outcomes he could have expected, this was not one of them. The person standing in front of him in no way computes with the kind and loveable man he used to remember. In fact, this person is the complete opposite of that person…Nick has no idea what to do or think. He just balks and stares.   

Jess - who is desperate to make this work - moved slightly towards Schmidt. “Schmidt, I thought you understood…” Jess looks heartbroken, her voice is nearly breaking. The sadness in it practically causes Nick to punch Schmidt. He feels his fist clenching. And suddenly, he’s looking at Schmidt with just as much anger as he’s feeling from the other man - no one talks to or hurts Jess. But then, Schmidt actually smiles at her and the anger seems to drain away - momentarily.

“I do…I understand why you left, Jess. And I’m so sorry for what happened - I don’t blame you for what happened. I honestly don’t - you did what you needed to, you had your reasons and they’re good reasons. But none of that explains away what Nick and Cece did…what Nick did to me.”

Nick can feel his own anger at Schmidt starting to boil over and he’s perhaps one second away from asking whether Schmidt ever made a huge mistake that he was ashamed of…perhaps the time when the idiot tired dating Elizabeth and Cece at the same time? Or maybe when he used all his money to rent a store for Abby - only to completely bankrupt himself..there were dozens of examples, and his friends had always taken him back…plus, who cares if it was Jess or Nick who went to his office to get him to talk. The point was that they wanted him back as their friend…but his reaction was only serving to alienate both Nick and Jess…

Nick could feel Jess starting to get angry - her body language becoming rigid. And right now, Schmidt was making her pretty mad - heck, maybe Nick wouldn’t have to step in and yell at Schmidt for Jess after all. She took a further step forward, just enough to slightly close the distance between her and Schmidt. She had this deep disapproving look on her face, but it was mixed with something else - something Nick was having a bit of trouble identifying…it was almost a look of pity. 

She sighed as she gave Nick’s hand a tight squeeze before letting go and moving even closer to Schmidt. She motioned with one hand for Schmidt to lean down, he did. She braced herself on his shoulder as she rose up on her toes, and whispered in his ear. Nick watched Schmidt’s face, which had been slightly bemused at Jess’ actions, but shifted to a look of surprise and almost hurt. A second later, Jess stepped back, her hand linking with Nick’s again. Her head cocked to the side slightly, regarding Schmidt with interest. 

Schmidt stood there for a moment, his eyes still cast down towards the floor. Slowly, he lifted his head - meeting Nick’s gaze. The anger was still there, but it had lessened somehow. Nick had no idea what had just happened - but something strange had occurred - whatever Jess had said, it helped to shift Schmidt’s attitude. Nick needed to know what Jess had said - she had fixed things again. 

Like she always did. She always fixed things - every time. 

Then, like a picture falling into focus, Schmidt’s anger was there again. His eyes burning and sad and hurt - the anger and pain he felt from three years ago, intense and hard. Nick heard Jess sigh softly next to him. It was clear - whatever she had said, it hadn’t work. 

Schmidt looked at them for a moment longer, then shaking his head, summarily ending what Nick had hoped would be his coup de grâce in bringing his family back together. “No. I’m sorry, Jessica. But no…I can’t do this. I made my peace with all this a long time ago. I have to go back to work.”

He turned - ready to simply march out of the bar - out of their lives - and disappear into the hot desert sun - but Nick couldn’t let that be it - he just couldn’t. “Schmidt.” He tired hard to keep his voice even - keeping the touch of anger and disappointment that he felt towards Schmidt out of his tone. The man stopped, he didn’t bother turning around. Nick sighed. 

But no matter how much Schmidt might hate him right now - had been hating him for three years - Nick had to do something. He couldn’t just let Schmidt walk out on him again. Three years ago, he had let Schmidt walk away from their friendship and he hadn’t even bothered trying to make things right, he couldn’t do that again. He needed to at least…make a gesture. 

Nick stepped forward, moving closer to Schmidt. 

“Look, man, I know I fucked up back then. And I am sorry. You have no idea how sorry I’ve been since then - I’ve never regretted anything as much as I regretted doing that to you. I am so so sorry. And I get it - you want nothing to do with me. Fuck, I don’t blame you - but I’m trying, man. I want to be your friend again - I’m trying to make things okay between us.”  Nick watched Schmidt’s back as he finished - there was no indication that anything he’d just said had registered, except that Schmidt was still here - he hadn’t stormed out just yet. Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet…what he was about to do was a calculated risk. It was like one of those saving bonds things - no immediate payoff, but the long term payoff could be big. He took out one of his business cards and stepped even closer towards Schmidt. He felt like he was approaching a feral bear. 

“So, I don’t know if you know this or not, but I own a bar. It’s a pretty awesome bar - it was on the LA Times list of top five bars to visit this year - so its pretty fucking successful. It’s called The BarRail - it’s like a speakeasy. I think you’d like it. And, uh, this is my card, okay - it has the bar’s address on. If you ever want to check out the bar, have a drink, or talk - or even not talk, that’s cool too - you just come to the bar. Tell the bouncer you’re a friend of mine - I’ll keep your name at the door permanently. You’ll always have a seat in my bar, man. And you’ll never have to pay for booze - unless you order bottle service, but…nevermind…” Nick put card on the table next to Schmidt. “…if you ever want to visit, you’re welcome there, okay? You’re my best friend - present tense - and I miss you. So, I hope one day I get to make you a drink.” 

Nick watched Schmidt turn his head slightly, looking down at the card. Nick could feel Jess behind him, holding her breath - of course, so was Nick. Schmidt reached out slowly and picked up the card, he looked at it for a moment, flicked it with his thumb, and then he slipped it into his inner coat pocket. Nick’s breath fell out of him in a rush of air - he had taken the card! He had actually done it. He’d taken the card! 

It was then that Nick realized that Schmidt was moving again - faster than before - as though he didn’t want any more interruptions in his attempt to escape. Nick wanted to call out again, wanted to try and get some reassurance that his play might actually pay off at some point in the future, but a gentle hand on his arm - Jess’ - told him not to. Instead, they watched as Schmidt walked up to the front door and put his hand on it to push it open. He stopped and turned - looking straight at the bar, where Cece was sitting, watching him. 

The look that passed between then was…charged. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, until Cece lifted her drink to her lips and took a long sip - which seemed to break the spell. 

Schmidt slipped out the door and was gone. 

Nick watched the door closer soundlessly behind his friend - not sure how to feel or what to think. That had not gone how he’d thought it would…in fact, it had not gone the way he wanted it to go at all…it had gone all wrong. Yeah, Schmidt was supposed to still be mad at him, who wouldn’t be. But he wasn’t supposed to still hate Nick…that wasn’t the plan. 

The plan was to get his family back…not feel like he’d failed all over again. Nick sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand. He felt awful. 

Then, Jess was slipping her arm around his waist and tugging him towards her. He moved easily, wrapping his arms around her and sinking into her embrace. His head droops slightly and he buries his face into her hair - breathing in her shampoo and perfume - its all citrus and spring flowers and instantly calms him down. His body gives a slight shudder. This whole experience has been exhausting and draining…the days in San Francisco, the stress of seeing Cece, trying to keep Dave from either imploding, the build up to seeing Schmidt and then this afternoon - as explosive and unpleasant as it was. All of it…its hitting him now. The sheer enormity of it. It’s too much…way too much… and now, all Nick wants to do is just go home. 

He wants to crawl into his bed, with Jess, and just sleep. But that just feels so very far away right now. There’s still a drive back to San Francisco, collecting Dave, then a flight back to LA tomorrow. Plus, he knows exactly how his brain works…and he knows that he’s going to be stressed over what just happened with Schmidt for hours, days, months even. The actual thing might be over, but there’s no way that its all finished…not by a long shot. 

And all the stress and worry and concern that’s to come is because of that business card…that little piece of paper. He’s going to stress over it all because he has no idea if his move will ever pay off. If he’ll ever get to actually have a drink with Schmidt - if the guy will ever even think about taking him up on that offer. Based on the emotion he saw in Schmidt’s eyes, he highly doubted it…but at the same time, Schmidt did take the card. 

He took it. 

Which meant he might actually think about it - he might actually visit. 

Nick sighed into Jess’ hair and squeezed her a bit tighter. Her face was pressed against his chest, and his shirt was thin enough so he could feel her warm breath against his skin - it felt reassuring. One of her hands trailed up his back, eventually coming to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck - tugging softly. He pulled back and looked down at her, a sad smile settling onto his face. She was looking at him, her face etched with worry. 

“You okay, Nick?”

He nodded. “Yeah - I think I was a bit delusional if I thought that was going to go any way but how it did. And he did take my card.”

“Yeah, that was a smart move…”

Jess’ words got lost in the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them - Cece was watching them with a bemused look on her face. She nodded towards the young waitress, who was looking at them from behind the bar - a look of irritation on her face. Clearly, the staff hadn’t taken too kindly to having Nick’s drama play out in their bar. He gave the waitress a smile and reached for his wallet.

“I’m going to go settle up - maybe give them a nice big tip.”

“Good idea.” Jess squeezed him one more time and then stepped away, moving towards Cece. Nick hurried over to the bar, handing the waitress his credit card , already starting to apologize for the weirdness he’d brought into the bar. Before he could even get the words out, she was turning away and sliding his card through the credit machine - clearly intent on ignoring him, probably wanting to get them out of her bar. Hey, he could sympathize - he’d dealt with his fair share of weirdos in his bar.

He took the offered receipt, scribbled a thirty percent tip into the tip line and signed the paper. She glanced at it, smiling when she saw the tip and nodded at him. When he turned around, he saw that Jess and Cece had already gone outside - pushing his hands into his pockets, he followed. He found them standing next to Cece’s red convertible - Jess’ hair was rippling in the wind. She looked sublime - the way her hair was blowing ever so slightly and the way the sun was making her skin glow. He smiled as he walked quickly towards them. 

He might not be going back to LA secure with Schmidt’s friendship in his back pocket, but there was an molecule of hope sitting in his chest. A molecule that seemed to grow just by looking at Jess - with her there, anything was possible. With her there, he would survive this rejection by Schmidt. And, if the guy decided to come see the bar, he’d survive that too - because she was there. He slipped on his sunglasses and moved to slide into Cece’s backseat - letting Jess and Cece has more time together in the front - pausing to press his lips to Jess’. He settled into the soft leather of Cece’s car, knowing full well that he was going to fall asleep the moment they started driving - letting the rhythm of the road and the warmth of the wind and lull him into unconsciousness. 

He smiled - trying to force the uncomfortableness with Schmidt out of his mind and focus on that face that by this time tomorrow, they would be back in LA. He would probably be thinking about his confrontation with Schmidt a lot…it was already replaying in the back of his mind…but he would be determined not to let it define him. He had let his past mistakes and his past regrets define him for so long…much too long…and he just doesn’t want to do that anymore. He wants his happy ending…and for the first time in a very long time, it almost feels like he’s going to get it. 

His eyes fell shut as Cece pulled out into traffic. He hears Jess laugh at something and he feels her hand reach back to squeeze his knee. He smiles…yeah, that happy ending was still within his reach. 

—/—

As the door to the hotel lobby opened, they were bombarded by the intense scent of lilacs and citrus - a wholly strange combination that seemed designs to both relax and invigorate at the same time. So far, every time Nick has walked into the hotel, he’d broken down into a fit of sneezing - it had to be lilac, he’d always hated that damn flower. Today, however, the smell was a welcome relief from the heavy odour of garbage and pot that hung outside the hotel in Union Square. Nick also relished the sensation of the hotel’s air condition on his burning face - he had stupidly forgotten to put sun-screen on his face after getting into Cece’s car, and then having fallen asleep with his face aimed directly at the sun for past two hours. He could feel that particular awful tightness and pain that came only with a sunburn. His skin felt like it was on fire, despite Jess’ assurances that he looked fine. 

And right now, all he wanted to do was go upstairs to their room, plunge his burning face into a sink of icy cold water, and then smear Aloe Vera gel all over his skin. He breathed a sigh of relief as the cold air of the lobby hit his skin. He clutched the shopping bag from Walgreens a little tighter - it held his precious burn relief necessities and a generous amount of junk food that Jess wanted. Jess patted his hand gently. 

“Come on - let’s go upstairs. I’ll rub some aloe vera onto that gorgeous face of yours.”

Nick grumbled and then glared at her when she laughed at him quietly. “Don’t laugh at me!”

She just shook her head. 

They turned towards the elevators, but the sound of the person at the concierge desk stopped them - “Mr. Miller? Miss Day?”

Jess turned, letting go of his hand. “Stay here. I’ll be back.” She hurried towards the desk. Nick watched as the concierge handed her a small envelope - Nick recognized it as the hotel’s stationary. Jess reappeared next to him. 

“What’s that?” He pointed to the envelope. 

“It’s from Dave. He left it this morning.” Jess was slowly tearing open the envelope - careful not to rip the note inside. She drew it out and read it quietly, her brow furrowing. 

“Well, what does it say?”

She handed him the note. He read it quickly - his brain was still very much on his increasingly uncomfortable face. The note, however, was weird: 

_Hey guys,_

_I changed my flight - going home this morning. I’m on a 11 am flight back. Thanks for the trip - but it made me realize that I still need to figure thing out. I’m going to work some stuff out. I’ll explain more when I see you back in LA._

_love lots,_

_Dave._

Nick glanced at Jess, who was already typing furiously on her phone. He reached out and grabbed her hand, stilling her fingers. “He’ll be okay. Maybe he got laid last night and freaked out about it or something and he wants to talk to Chris. Maybe, this trip helped wake him up and he’s going to go try to fix his marriage.”

She rolled her eyes at him and went back to her text message. “I know he’ll be okay. I just want to make sure. And I really hope so.” 

“Okay. But, can we make sure he’s okay upstairs though?”

She nodded, smiling at him, as her phone disappeared back inside her purse. “Of course…does it hurt?”

“No, just really uncomfortable. And I really want some time alone with you.”

“Alright, bucko. Let’s go.” She took his arm and led him towards the elevator. As the doors closed, Nick pressed his burning face against the cool metal of the elevator’s interior, Jess pulled his arm around her waist, cuddling up against him. “So, how about rather than go out for dinner tonight, we just get room service and spend our last night here in bed.”

Nick opened his eyes, adjusting his head so he could look down at her while still pressing his face against the wall, “That sounds perfect, Jess.”

The doors dinged open and he let her guide him down the hallway towards their room - wondering briefly if he could forgo the cold water and aloe gel for a little while…there was something else he really wanted to do right now. And it involved a lot less clothing. 

As the hotel room door closed behind them, he slipped his arms around her waist, nuzzling his face into the back of her neck. Her soft hair itched his burning face, but at that moment he just didn’t give a fuck. His let one of his hands wander down her dress, splaying open at her stomach and then inching further - towards the hem. 

“Nick! What are you doing? I thought you wanted…”

“I want something else now…please.”

She twisted in his arms, smiling at him. Her hands flew to the buttons on his shirt - slowly she undid them until she could gently push it off. The shirt fluttered to ground. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest - murmuring something softly. 

“What did you say?”

She pulled back. “That I love you.”

He felt his face explode into a huge grin. “God, Jess…I love you too! So much.”

She smiled in response as her hands fell to the buckle of his pants, swiftly undoing them and the button in one easy movement. She started to unzip him, when he stopped her. “Wait. My shoes.” 

She nodded. “Bed?” 

He leaned over, yanking off his Cole Haans, nodding in response. As he stood up, he got to watch her slip off her ballet flats and walk - hips swaying ever so slightly - towards the bed, where she sat down, tucking her legs beneath her. He followed, gripping his pants tightly so they wouldn’t fall. When he was standing in front of her, she took his hand, and pushed his pants down - pooling at his ankles. She tugged down his boxer briefs, until they had joined his pants - he was completely naked now. She, however, was still fully dressed…he felt at a distinct disadvantage.

She leaned back, a small secret smile appearing on her face. 

“What? Why do you always smile like that when I’m taking my clothes off.”

“Nick, I know I say this a lot - but the change in you, it still stuns me. I still have to reconcile the two Nicks - old Nick, and this Nick. You went through this metamorphosis in the three years we were apart. I love both Nicks…but sometimes, I’m just still a little surprised when, well…it reminds me of how much you’ve changed.”

Nick dropped down onto his knees - wincing slightly as the coarse carpet scratched against his bare skin - and he gathered her hands into his. “Jess, I changed because I had to - I was hurting myself and when you left I got a huge wake up call…not because of you, but because of what came after. I got scared…that’s why I look like I do. Because I was scared…but now, things are different. I have you back - and I feel amazing. I’m healthy, I’m happy…heck, I even ate a disgusting burger at that restaurant last night…and I’m pretty sure it’s all because of you. You make me a better human being…with you, I can be both Nicks. But, I’m not going to lie…I like the way you look at me. It makes me feel good…sexy.”

“That’s because you are.” She pulled one of her hands out his grasp and ran her thumb across his cheek. “You’re my Nick…and I’m so glad I came back to you.”

He shuffled forward on his knees until he could press his face into the fabric of her dress, turning his head slightly so he was lying with his cheek pressed into her lap. He could feel the way her fingers were playing with his hair. He closed his eyes and let himself just sink into the comfort and joy of being here like this with her. Suddenly, he felt a sharp spike of pain flare across his face as she accidentally dragged one of her finger nails across his burning face. He leapt up, a soft yelp of pain escaping him. 

“Shit! Nick - I’m so sorry.”

He touched his stinging face gently. “It’s okay, Jess. It was more a surprise.” 

She slipped off the bed and picked up the Walgreen’s bag. “Fine, but I think we need to get some aloe on that burn - it’s starting to look really red. Sit on the bed.” She dumped the bag next to him and disappeared into the bathroom, only to reappear a moment later with a damp washcloth. “Here - press this on your face.”

The cloth was icy cold - almost as though she had managed to find ice in the bathroom - but it felt amazing on his face. He smiled as he draped it over his face. “This feels amazing.” His voice was muffled by the cloth. 

“Good. Leave it there for a bit…then we’ll get some aloe on you.”

“I’m going to taste like aloe…”

“I just won’t kiss you then.”

“Then I don’t want the aloe.”

“Shut up. You know I’ll be able to keep that promise for like one second.”

“Yeah. I know. Okay, the cloth is kinda warm now…”

She took it off his face and slowly started rubbing the thick gel onto his face - he felt his skin instantly start to cool. He moaned quietly. He sat there silently letting her rub his face - he really hated the way the aloe dried onto his skin, making it feel tight and hard. But it still felt so good. 

Once his face was completely covered in the gel, she got up again and went back into the washroom. He heard the tap running. All he could think about was how much he loved her - how much he wanted her in his life. He’d spent so long without her…too long. They were meant to be together…taking care of each other.

And just like that he decided. 

Nick watched Jess walk out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a towel, smiling at him. She tossed the towel onto the room’s weird little love-seat and started to undo her dress. “You should probably have a cold shower soon, that’ll feel really good on the burn.”

He didn’t reply, instead he just sat there…watching her. She was about to slip her dress off her shoulders when he spoke: “Jess…”

“Yeah, Nick.”

“So, what I want to ask…I can’t…we just got back together and its way too soon for me to ask what I want to ask…so I’m going to ask something else instead, okay?”

She paused - her dress was halfway off - an expression of confusion mixed with slight fear on her face. “Nick…?”

“Will you move in with me?”

Her dress fell to the ground. And suddenly a nearly naked Jessica Day was straddling his hips - her arms locking around his neck - and her lips were pressing against his. He grabbed hold of her hips and, not breaking the kiss, started shimmying them up to bed until he could lie down - pulling her with him - resting his head against the pillows. 

He started teasing the clasp on her bra - very much wanting to get her just as naked as he was - but it dawned on him that she actually hadn’t answered him. Gently, he pushed her up a bit - breaking their connection. When he spoke, his voice was almost breathless. “Uh…can I take that as a yes?”

She nodded - her face awash with a teary smile. “Yes…oh my god, yes!”

“Its not too fast?”

“No. I practically live at your place anyway! I love waking up with you and going to bed with you…I want to do what we never got a chance to do three years ago - make a home for ourselves.”

“Plus, Mary-belle must be getting tired of being shuttled between houses.”

“Absolutely. So, yes, Nick Miller, I want to move in.”

Nick pressed his lips to hers again, a smile breaking out on his face. “Fuck…this feels so grown up!”

“That’s because we grew up, Nick. So much happened to us, so many shitty things, and it made us grow up. But it also made me realize how important you are to me…”

“Me to. You are the most important thing. And I like grown-up us, then. I think we’re doing okay as grown ups.”

“I think we’re doing great as grown ups.” She twisted off of him, stretching out along the bed, angling herself so they were face to face. “Now…I think there was something you were interested in doing?”

“Well…for me to do what I really want to do, I need to get you out of that bra and those panties, Ms. Day.” His fingers deftly started to undo the bra clasp. He leaned forward so he could press his lips to her collarbone, gently kissing her cool skin as he pulled away the bra…letting his lips and tongue being tracing the curves of her body. 

She whimpered his name. 

And Nick just moved lower…shifting her panties off of her as he went. He pressed his face into her stomach, lips kissing her bellybutton and his fingers gently brushing her tattoo. They lay there for a long moment - she could feel that he was slipping into what she’d come to call Nick space, where he just needed to take a moment and collect himself. She felt his lips move against his skin - as though he was silently saying something. 

Then, all at once, his mouth was on her…lips and tongue working in tandem to elicit a loud throaty moan out of her. Her fingers tangled into his hair - pulling hard, which made him work with even more intensity. 

He lifted his head - droplets of moisture hanging off his beard - he was grinning. “Get used to this…I’m going to want to do it everyday when you move in, just so you know.”

“Small price to pay for you yelling ‘Coaster’ at me all the time.” 

—/—

The hotel room was quiet. Well, almost quiet. The quiet was occasionally punctuated by the sound of the air conditioner and a gentle dripping noise coming from the bathroom. All the lights there off, save one - the bathroom light - which Jess insisted on keeping on so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Next to the bed, on one of the nightstands, sat a half empty bottle of champagne and two tall glasses - a celebratory bottle.  

In the bed, ensconced underneath a pile of stark white hotel sheets and blankets, Nick and Jess seem completely unaware of the world around them. They are wrapped up in each other - Jess spooning into Nick’s larger, warmer body - his chin resting gently on the top of her head and his arms wrapped loosely around her, holding her close. 

For Nick - this is the epitome of happiness. This is the simple, reassuring kind of action that he craved for the past three years. For Nick, being able to hold Jess like this, allows him to recharge in a way. He’s able to just separate himself from the world and disappear into a something that makes sense. 

Because, with Jessica Day in his life, everything just makes sense. 

Nick had built a life for himself that anyone would envy - and many people did - but no matter how many successful his bar was, or how many awards he won, or how big his bank account got, his life just wasn’t worthwhile. It had felt empty…and lonely…he had been lonely.

Until, she walked back into it. 

Then, it all clicked back into place. 

And now, just as the first rays of the sun are starting to brighten the city of San Francisco - and three hundred and ninety miles away, the city of Los Angeles - Nick Miller finds himself opening his eyes. Not because he’s had a bad dream - he doubts those are going to happen all that often anymore - but because he realizes that he doesn’t want to miss this. For years, he had calmed himself or grounded himself with the rising of the sun - often watching it from his condo - and his body still craves that moment, but now he doesn’t need a sunrise or anything else to ground him…because he got his life back. She had given that to him - together they had started rebuilding their family with Winston and Cece. They had managed to bridge and fix the hurt and pain they both had caused…together they’d made that happen. Together, they had held out an olive branch to Schmidt…and he knew that Schmidt had only taken that card because of Jess. 

Nick wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. He didn’t know if he would ever see Schmidt again. He didn’t know if Dave was going to end up alone - but if he did, Nick and Jess would be there. He didn’t know what the next stage for The BarRail was…Nick had no idea where his life was going to lead to, but he knew that everything would be just fine because she was there with him. He knew that his empty, quite condo was about to become the one thing he’d always wanted - a home. And all of it was because she had kept her promise - a bit delayed, but still, she had come home. 

Nick nestles deeper into the pillows and soft mattress, relishing the sensation of holding her. 

He smiles in the dark and then gently rubs her shoulder. 

“Jess…”

A soft murmur comes from the pile of pillows next to him. 

“Jess…can you wake up for a second?”

“Nick?” Her voice is sleep filled and confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just need to tell you something.”

She shifts, pushing herself up onto her elbow. “Nick, it’s five in the morning - what on earth is so important that you need to wake me up at five in the morning to tell me?” She still sounds sleepy, but now she also sounds irritated…okay, maybe this wasn’t as good an idea as he'd thought. But he was in the middle of it now. 

“Jess…”

She shifts again, turning around to face him - he can’t see her face in the dark, which sucks. “Yes, Nick?”

“Thank you.”

She moves closer to him, he tightens his arms around her. “What am I being thanked for?” She runs her fingers across his cheek - his burnt skin tingles at the sensation.

“Coming home.”

“Oh Nick…”

“It’s okay…I just woke up and was thinking about how much I love you and how happy I am and how it’s all because you came home.”

“You’re a sap, Nick Miller.”

“And proud of it. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“You’re allowed to wake me…but can we go back to sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She was already repositioning herself so she could sleep with her face pressed against his bare chest…her voice heavy with sleep, he knew she would be asleep in seconds. He closed his eyes, letting the gentle sound of her breathing lull him back to sleep as well. 

For a second, just before sleep overtook him, he considered waking her up again so they could watch the sunrise…but then, as he finally drifted off, he thought…

Sunrises aren’t all that special. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Last Word - (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Word_(cocktail)


	18. Epilogue - The Grand Finale.

****Before****

 “Nick! Get the damn door!” 

“Why am I getting the door! You’re the idiot who asked her to come…this in no way has anything to do with me! So why should I get the damn door?”

“Nick! JUST OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

Nick slammed his beer down on the coffee table - grumbling. Why was he the only one who could open the stupid door. Where the hell was Coach? And Schmidt better not be planning on waltzing into the stupid living room wearing nothing but a towel like the last time they interviewed a girl as a potential roommate - he was damn lucky she hadn’t pressed charges. Sighing, he pushed himself up from the couch, carefully brushing himself off - might as well try to make a good first impression, even if he was vehemently against having a girl as a roommate. It was bad mojo, man. Just like having a woman on a pirate ship! He moved towards the door - grabbing the doorknob and sucking in a deep breath

This was sure to spell certain doom…one of them was sure to…

Holy fuck.

The girl - no, the woman - standing in front of him was beautiful - stunningly so. She had longish, curly brown hair, starling blue eyes that seemed almost too big for her head, the effect of which was only enhanced by her chunky hipster glasses. She was wearing the most amazing bright red dress with these little white…things on…oh, they were little stars. The dress was tapered perfectly at her waist and then flared out again. It was short enough that he could see her long, shapely legs. His eyes moved quickly over her - soaking her in. She was smiling shyly at him. 

“Uh…hi! You must…uh…be…”

“I’m Jess.” She held out her hand. “I’m here about the room?” Her voice was soft, with this awkward quirkiness to it (with a hint of nervousness), he instinctively smiled as soon as he heard it. He held out his hand too and the moment their skin touched, Nick knew he was a goner.

“I’m Nick…it's nice to meet you. Come on in. The other guys will be right out.”

She nodded and smiled again. And as she brushed past him, a wave of citrus and springtime flowers in her wake, Nick realized right then and there that nothing was ever going to be the same.

****Now****

Unfathomable. Now, there’s a word for you - unfathomable. It’s one of those words that most people never really think about - especially in relation to their lives - but sometimes, you can’t help but look at your life and think: ‘Shit, my life is really unfathomable.’ Besides it being a very awkward sentence, it’s also incredibly rare…but it does happen. And for Nick Miller, it just fits. Because, when he thinks about it - really thinks about it - his life seems to be exactly that - unfathomable. Fuck, it was barely that. In many ways, Nick’s life felt...charmed. 

Yeah...that’s more like it. 

Nick’s life was a charmed one. His life was filled with laughter and love and joy. And for many people, that wouldn’t mean jack squat, but they haven’t lived the life Nick has…because having a life filled with those things means he’s living a remarkably different situation than he’s used to. Just over a year ago - heck, just eight months ago, really - Nick’s life had been the polar opposite of charmed. Eight months ago, Nick could’ve easily been described as lonely, sad and desperate for human connection (even if he didn’t realized it). Nick’s life had been reduced to the small world he’d created behind his bar. The limited joy he got out of creating cocktails. The excitement he felt when he opened his bank accounts. And that was where the problem lay, because Nick had forgotten how to live outside of those few small things. Nick Miller had divorced himself from life and the people who populated that life - for Nick, people were just customers...nothing more than potential dollar signs. 

Quite honestly, Nick’s world had shrunk to incredibly small proportions.

But Nick had not intended for his life to become so limited. And, if he really thought about it, he probably wouldn’t have been that surprised by it all...in the end, he’d put so much value and importance onto his relationship with Jess that when he lost that relationship it had been as though all the air had gone out of his world. Which had left him floundering for something to hold on to - something to take Jess’ place. The bar and mixology had been just that. Unfortunately, he had let those things consume him - leaving no room for other people in his life. 

And then, eight months ago, something changed. A man had walked into his bar and told him that Jessica Day was back in LA. He knew right at that moment that the safe - constricted - world he’d created would never be the same again. 

And he was right. Just like the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her - Nick’s world went topsy turvy. 

But, to be honest, that topsy turvy-ness probably saved Nick’s life. All of a sudden - almost as soon as Jess had walked into his condo that Saturday, eight months ago, Nick’s life started to expand. And the moment he let himself admit that he still loved her - that he had always and would always love her - Nick stepped out from behind his bar and fell back into Jess’ arms. Moment by moment, inch by inch, Nick started to live again. And now, here he is, eight months after that day, discovering that he was living a very different life. A life he thought had been taken from him - a life he thought he’d never get to have. 

Nick sighed as he swivelled his chair away from his computer - where he’d been slowly entering last night’s receipts. He was tired of staring at his computer - which he’d been doing all day long. Somehow, The BarRail was doing better than ever. Last night, Sunday, had been a record breaking night - the popularity of his pyjama night was skyrocketing - which meant more orders than normal to place, more receipts than ever to enter, more staff to manage, more marketing initiatives to handle...it just meant more of everything. And eight months ago, he would have loved this. He would have greedily been at the bar every single night, happily making drinks and then working until dawn on his accounts. But now, he slightly resented all the success, because it meant that he occasionally had to be away from Jess. 

And he really hated that. 

Nick’s eyes moved slowly away from the small pile of receipts that still needed to be keyed into his spreadsheet and came to rest on a photo sitting next to his monitor. He smiled as he reached out and picked it up. It was a recent photo - taken a couple weeks ago - at the pool in the courtyard of Dave’s new apartment building. In it, he and Jess were standing - dripping wet - next to the pool, he had his arm wrapped around her waist and she was laughing at something he had just said. He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said to her, probably some stupid comment about Dave’s really ugly swimsuit or the tacky inflatable palm trees that were littered around the courtyard. Whatever it was, however, had brought out that radiant smile he loved so much. But it was his face that Nick couldn’t help but focus on right now. 

Nick’s face did not have that same radiance. On his face was this small, reserved smile. A smile that he wore often over the last few months. It was a smile that said he had a secret. A secret question that he really wanted to ask. And, like a million times before, just before getting out of the pool, Nick had almost asked it. 

Asked the question that he’d been wanting to ask for much too long. 

It had come over him all at once - he’d been floating lazily around the pool, clinging onto a pool noodle, when he’d noticed her - perched happily against the side of the pool. Her hair ripping on the surface of the water, face upturned towards the sun, looking so incredibly content and happy. It had taken every ounce of strength he had not to float up to her and just ask her right then and there. 

Instead, he’d cracked a joke to break the tension he’d felt rising in his chest. 

The need to ask her had been almost constant from the moment she’d moved in a few months earlier. And it felt like it was growing steadily every day. He knew he probably wasn’t going to last much longer - how could he? He’d lost her for so long that all he wanted was to keep her close again. But he needed to try and make sure that he didn’t go too fast too soon...they were barely a year old! And yeah, it might feel as though that their awful three year break hadn’t happened…but it did. And no matter how awesome this all felt, how right it felt, it just wouldn’t be a good idea to jump straight to marriage. No matter how badly he wanted it...he wanted to make sure Jess was on the same page. 

He didn’t want to risk losing her again. 

Nick’s finger reached out and stroked the photo frame. God, he was pathetic! He’d seen her less than six hours ago, and here he was pining away for her like some lovesick puppy. Nick sighed again and turned back to his stack of receipts...he needed to get these done. Especially since, Jess was picking him up soon. 

He needed to focus. 

As was so often the case lately, no matter how hard Nick tried, he just couldn’t put one hundred percent of his focus onto the screen in front of him. His brain just kept wandering - back to his morning with Jess, to the photo on his desk, to…

…the woman in his doorway. 

Nick’s head snapped up - his gaze locking onto the figure of Jessica Day, leaning against the doorframe, watching him with a small smile on her face. Instantly, he felt his entire face break out into an enormous grin. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

She nodded, her smile widening. “Hey, yourself, stud. Don’t let me disturb you. You look much too sexy when you’re all focused and serious like that.”

He pushed his chair back, waving her over. “Well, why don’t you come over here and I can be all focused and serious about something other than spreadsheets.”

She shook her head. “Nope. You gotta get your work done, mister.”

“Will teacher be mad at me, otherwise?”

Jess laughed softly and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be gross. We’re not in a porn, Nick.”

“I’m not being gross…and we could be, if you wanted to. I kinda remember how much you liked it the last time we indulged in that fantasy.”

Her smile grew a little, but she still shook her head. He waved her over with even more enthusiasm. “Please come over here.”

She smiled and pushed herself off the doorframe, moving towards him - her hips swaying slightly as she walked. Nick fought to suppress a whimper. She was just about to perch herself on the side of his desk, when he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. 

“Nick! Don’t!”

“Why not?” 

“Because Charlie is in the other room! She might…”

“I don’t care.” Nick pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat - his tongue moving slowly across her skin. He felt her shudder, a low moan escaping her mouth, and her hands gripped his shirt tightly. He started kissing up the side of her neck, while he carefully gripped her hips to reposition her slightly - getting her straddle to him. “Still want me to stop?”

“No...yes...you’re awful, Nick! What if Charlie hears?!”

Nick kept his mouth pressed against Jess’ neck, knowing that the sensation of his breath against her skin was going to make her crazy. “She won’t...and we can be really quiet and…” 

Unfortunately, the sound of another voice in the room suddenly cut him off, causing Jess to take a flying leap off of his lap and instantly deflate his somewhat impressive hard-on.

His bar manager and best friend was standing in the doorway - her voice filled with amusement. ’“Charlie can hear...and Charlie can see.” Nick’s glared towards the doorway, where Charlie was standing with her arms crossed, smirking at him. “You know, if you’re going to get frisky in your office, you really need to close the door!” 

Nick smiled and shrugged, noticing that Jess was carefully trying to compose herself, although her burning face easily gave away how embarrassed she was. He knew if he gave Charlie a cheeky comeback, Jess would get mad at him. So, he went for or a slightly chastised, “Sorry, Charlie. We got carried away.” 

She just shook her head. “Whatever, as nauseating as this is, its still preferable to the grumpy loner who used to run this place.”

“Fuck off, I was never grumpy.”

“Keep telling yourself that, bucko. Anyways, hi Jess” 

Jess slowly turned around, a shy smile on her face. “Hi Charlie. Are we still on for dinner this week?” Jess clearly had decided to just ignore the whole embarrassing situation. 

Charlie’s smile broadened. Ever since Nick and Jess had become a couple again, Jess had pulled Charlie and her girlfriend into their circle of friends, establishing weekly dinners with them, Winston and Sarah and occasionally Dave. Charlie was nodding enthusiastically. “Of course. Lisa’s looking forward to it.”

“Good. I think Dave wanted to host, but they’re still going to be unpacking.” Jess glanced at her watch, frowning. “We should probably go soon, though. If we’re going to get to the airport on time.” 

Nick slipped the receipts he hadn’t gotten to into a folder, tucking it onto his ‘To Do’ tray. “Sure, I can finish this up tomorrow.” He glanced up at Charlie. “You cool for tonight?” She gave him a thumbs up. 

“You know we are.” 

“Yeah, and you know I’m gonna worry no matter how ready you are.”

Charlie rolled her eyes - Nick was quite certain that at some point, her eyes were just going to roll right out of her head for the number of times she acted all exasperated with him. “Jess,” Charlie turned towards his girlfriend, “you know that your mission is to get him to calm the fuck down, right?”

“I think this might be as calm as I can get him…I don’t think he’ll ever not be high strung.”

“I’m sitting right here, you know.” Nick jabbed Jess’ stomach gently, she flinched and scowled at him. A tiny jolt of fear immediately started to take root in his stomach - that was not a ‘don’t tease me’ scowl, it was most assuredly a very serious scowl. Nick really didn’t like those kinds of scowls - they usually meant he’d done something to piss her off. And quite honestly, he was still on slightly uneven ground emotionally - he was trying hard not to be terrified that every little move he made that upset her would send her back to Portland and out of his life. He damn well knew that wasn’t the case, but it was still hard not to be just a tad frightened of the possibility. To try and defuse her, he smiled, giving her his best ‘I’m innocent’ look. Her face softened, but she clearly still wasn’t happy with having been poked in the stomach - something Nick immediately made a note of, because normally, Jess liked the million different ways he showed affection. He’d have to ask her about it later. For now, though, he reached down and grabbed his messenger bag and pushed himself out of his chair - he could ask her about it on the way. 

“Okay, I’m ready to go, Jess.” He slipped his hand into hers, squeezing gently. She squeezed back...telling him that whatever was up, it wasn’t bad enough for her to be mad at him. He turned back to Charlie - who had clearly been totally oblivious to Nick’s minor panic attack - and was watching them with a bemused grin on her face. “Okay, Char, tell you what - tonight, I’m actually going to turn my phone off, so I’ll be totally unreachable. How’s that for calming down?”

“Whatever, boss man, you’ll text me at least once...you’re completely unable to stay away! Now get going, and give the doctor man and his husband a hug for me.” 

Jess’ smile widened even more, which was pretty normal anytime someone mentioned Dave and Chris. Nick smiled, he couldn’t help it - he knew that neither he nor Jess had anything to do with Dave’s reconciliation with Chris, but there was still a touch of pride. 

Nick had been right that day back in San Francisco, after reading Dave’s note. Dave had indeed ended up sleeping with a guy that he’d met a bar and had immediately felt awful about it. According to Dave, he’d hadn’t bothered changing his flight, instead buying an entirely new ticket - to Portland - where he’d confronted Chris and demanded that they work things out. Nick had no idea what Dave and Chris had said to each other - and apparently neither did Jess - but a month later, Chris was making arrangements to move to LA. For the past couple months, Dave and Chris had been going back and forth between the two cities - house hunting, job hunting for Chris and moving their lives to LA. All of which was culminating that night - the final trip. The one that brought Chris to LA permanently.

Dave, naturally, had been overjoyed that he’d managed to save his marriage. There had been many nights, while Dave had been staying with him, that Nick had heard about how much Dave loved Chris. What had struck him the most was how similar Dave’s description of the loss of his marriage had sounded to Nick’s reaction when Jess had left - eerily familiar. So Nick understood. Fuck, did he ever understand how awful Dave felt...how much pain the man was in. But, as Nick and Jess made their way out of The BarRail, hands firmly attached to one another, Nick also knew how fantastic Dave was feeling right at this moment. Because, right now, Dave was on a plane - with his husband - about to land in their newly adopted city. 

Forty minutes later - somehow, the traffic gods had smiled down on them - Nick and Jess were sitting in LAX’s arrivals area, both holding a Starbucks coffee. For one (horrifying) moment, Nick was transported back to that day - three years ago - when he and Jess had at the airport together. The day she’d left. 

It was like his brain couldn’t help itself - it wanted to play an awful trick on Nick, and was determined to do so. Nick could feel a rising swell of panic in his gut as those emotions and memories threatened to overtake him. His breath caught in his throat and he could almost feel the panic attack rushing towards him. And then, he felt her soft warm hand on his knee. 

“Stop.” Her voice was gentle, but at the same time firm. 

“What?”

“Stop thinking about it. I’m not going anywhere, okay? Just because we’re at an airport...it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

“I’m sorry...I’m still a little weird about airports that’s all. Remember when we went to San Francisco, I practically vibrated out of my skin till we got on the plane.” 

“I know...and I’m right here, okay?”

“Okay,” Nick let his head fall onto her shoulder, sighing softly. “I love you, so much Jess.”

“I love you too!” 

Nick glanced at her - she was smiling down at her coffee cup. She looked content and happy, but at the same time there was a weird hesitation. He had gotten used to that too - it was just something the she carried with her everywhere - the pale vestiges of her depression. Sometimes it was like a ghost image of that grief and sadness and normally, it was barely there - barely noticeable. But today - ever since she had walked into his office that afternoon - he’d detected it, despite her best attempts to hide it. He suddenly knew exactly why she had scowled at him. 

Something was bothering her…something bad or upsetting.

His eyes narrowed - worried.

“Jess...you okay?”

She barely looked up, her voice tried hard to mask the creeping sadness there. “Of course! Why?”

“You kinda scowled at me earlier and you look upset - I dunno, just a weird feeling. So, yeah, I know something’s wrong…what’s up?”

She nodded, slowly her eyes lifted from her coffee cup to meet his. She looked suddenly very nervous. “Yeah...I’m sorry. I...uh…”

“What’s wrong?” He twisted towards her. Making sure that if she needed him that she could launch herself at him easily. 

Her face scrunched together slightly - she was thinking. Whatever this was…it was big or important and she wasn’t sure how to talk to him. Then, “I’m late…” 

“Late for what?” Nick glanced up at the arrivals board - Dave and Chris’ flight hadn’t even arrived yet, so they certainly weren’t late for that...and he didn’t think they had anywhere else to be, besides their dinner reservations with Dave and Chris, but that wasn’t for hours yet. So, what was she late for…

“I’m late late, Nick…” Her voice seemed to urge a sense of understanding. 

And all at once, he got it. Oh, that kind of late…

His eyes got bigger and he felt his palms get really sweaty. 

“Oh...oh! Oh…”

“Yeah. I know. I’m...” Her sentence was lost as his lips came crashing down onto hers, silencing her. His arms flew around her waist, his coffee cup tumbling to the ground, followed quickly by hers - much to the chagrin of an airport janitor standing nearby. He yanked her out of her seat, pressing her to him - but not too tightly, his brain seemed already auto-tuned to protecting her. As he pulled back, she got to see the enormity of his smile. 

“How sure are you?”

“Not very - I’m only two weeks late, but it’s enough to make me think. I bought a test - I thought we could, before dinner, you know...”

“Fuck...oh fuck…”

“Are you freaking out in a good way or a bad way?”

He didn’t need to even think about what he did next…it was exactly what his brain and body wanted. “Marry me?”

“What?! Nick! Don’t be…”

“Marry me…”

“You’re serious?”

“Marry me.”

“Nick...I don’t want you to…”

“I’m not. I’m asking because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, whether there’s a baby in that perfect stomach of yours or not...marry me.”

Jess stared at him for a long moment - a subtle silence started to grow between them, not an uncomfortable one, but rather one filled with contemplation and surprise and love. Nick’s warm brown eyes stared at her, there was no urgency in them - no harsh demands or desperate need; instead, they were filled with excitement, love and patience. 

It had been three years, two months and fifteen days since Jessica Day had gotten on a plane bound for Portland, Oregon - a trip that had fundamentally changed her life in every possible way. Jess could remember the feeling of loss and sadness as she mourned not only the loss of a baby she hadn’t even known existed until it was gone, but the loss of a relationship she had treasured and loved so deeply. Three years ago, she had left this city unsure she (or Nick) were ready for something as adult as marriage and a family, but now…

Now…

Now, when faced with the possibility of both, Jess just felt ready...especially if he was at her side. 

And so, with the insanity of LAX raging around them, with the knowledge that right at that moment a plane from Portland was landing - carrying someone who had become Jess’ rock over the last two years, knowing that she and Nick would be seeing Winston and Sarah tomorrow and Cece would be arriving in the city for one of her monthly visits that weekend. Knowing that her family - one that made Jess feel like anything was possible - was all around her…helping her. Loving her. And knowing that this man - this silly, wonderful, beautiful man - who made the best cocktails she’d ever had - wanted to spend everyday at her side…well, the answer was pretty clear. 

Jessica Day nodded. 

Because, they didn’t need anymore time. They just needed each other. 

—/--

****A Mini-logue****

***9 pm that same night***

Charlie Maxwell had been in the bar business a very long time - she was used to any number of oddities both inside and outside a bar. She could handle crazed club kids who were so high on ecstasy that they barely knew where they were. She could handle coked out movie stars, drunk B-list stars, the paparazzi, crazed fans hoping their next autograph would be found inside her bar...Charlie was an old hand at dealing with the LA bar world. 

And she loved her job. 

She especially loved working for Nick Miller. The man’s drive and passion for his bar was awe-inspiring, if not a little scary in its intensity. But she loved the guy like a brother and she loved The BarRail like it actually belonged to her. She had never really understood his drive or love for his bar until Jess had reappeared in his life, and then as the story slowly started to take shape - their breakup, his depression and grief at losing her, and eventually the reasons behind her leaving...well, Charlie eventually just got it. In many ways, understanding why Nick was the Nick she knew just endeared him to her even more. And now, that he was rebuilding his life with Jess, it felt even more important to Charlie that the bar be as big a success as possible.

That might have been why she started increasing The BarRail’s public marketing image even more...resulting in consistently packed houses almost every single night. She knew Nick was wondering why there had been an increase in revenue...and she’d get around to telling him eventually. 

For now, though, Charlie was taking a moment for herself. Leaning back against the building, just outside the main entrance, watching the somewhat impressive line up at the door (impressive for a Monday, that is). Charlie brought the ice cold bottle of water up to her lips and took a sip - she wondered what Nick was getting up to tonight. She would normally hear from him at least once during a night, but so far tonight, she hadn’t heard a single peep out of him.

Not that he had anything to worry about. 

She pulled out her phone, starting to draft a text to her girlfriend - who was probably halfway through her own shift at a bar on the other side of town. As she was typing, a black SUV pulled up in front of the bar - clearly an Uber. After a moment, the backdoor opened a tall man stepped out. He was dressed in a dark suit that was cut to fit him perfectly. It was clearly a very expensive suit. Underneath the dark suit, he had on a startling white shirt that almost glowed in the moonlight - it was either brand new or was lovingly cared for by a rather expensive dry-cleaners. She bet her money on the former. 

His longish hair was swept  up in a kind of puffy bouffant that would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone but him. The hair style just seemed to fit him. Although, from the way he kept touching it slightly, she guessed it had been quite recently that he had started growing it out. Normally, that would be the end of her interest in people, unless they were spending money in the bar, but there was something about him. Some kind of nervous energy that just jumped out at her...he seemed almost out of place.  

No, that wasn’t it. He looked liked he wasn’t sure if he should be here. He almost looked...scared. 

Charlie sipped her water - her eyes locked on the strange man - she pushed her phone back into the pocket of her jeans, her unset text message forgotten. This guy had her complete attention now. There was just something about him...

His hand slipped inside his jacket blazer and he pulled something out. Charlie narrowed her eyes, trying to see what it was - it looked small and thin. A card. It was a business card. He flicked it a few times, then turned it over again and again - the object flew between his fingers. Finally he stopped and looked down at it - examining it. Contemplating it. His head eventually lifted again to stare at the building - the bar - in front of him. For a moment, Charlie was certain he was going to turn and run, but then he took a step forward and walked towards the front door. 

Charlie pushed herself off the wall, moving towards him, her best hostess smile plastered on her face. His eyes shot towards her as soon as she moved. He looked startled. 

“Hi.” Charlie kept the smile on her face. “Welcome to The BarRail, I’m Charlie - the manager.”

“Hi...um...is Nick here? I’m Schmidt…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Finale (http://www.drinksmixer.com/drink2p15o60.html)
> 
> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, thought about, recommended and loved this story. And thank you to everyone who commented, sent me messages on Tumblr and just kept me in their thoughts. I can't tell you how much it has meant to me. I started this story because I was feeling rather dissatisfied with some aspects of my life and needed to work that out - and the way you all responded to my little endeavour has just floored me. I have truly loved writing my version of Nick Miller - he's been at times hilarious and heartbreaking to script. Thank you for liking him. 
> 
> Thank you for coming on this journey with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Painkiller - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Painkiller_(cocktail)


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